The Golden Rule
by Seggy
Summary: A great leader awakened, and a world displaced into a seemingly benign place. The next step? Building up towards a Great Harvest for all beings to enjoy.
1. Displacement

Underneath a region once called Scandinavia, eyes glowing with a golden power opened. Their owner peered around, noting the mass of tangled cables his body teemed with, before his eyelids lowered over his optical organs. After he gave a mighty pull, former Stockholm disappeared under a cloud of fire.

The God-Emperor's armor-clad shape exploded from the Golden Throne with a screech of metal and dying deities. His bellowed "FUUUUUCK" was louder still as his magnificent shape drifted in the stratosphere, his hair whipping to the side under the push of the jetstreams as he watched his world slowly rotate. The gray forge world was choked with smoke and gas, and even from his altitude he could smell the filth of Terra.

The Astronomican's light had faded from his mind. He did not feel the pull of the Ruinous Powers in the back of his soul, only his immense psychic power, for once left without opposition in the universe. The Warp was inexistent, he noted as his being explored the planet underneath.

Were there enough air for his words to reverberate in, his words would have torn the heavens asunder. The God-Emperor shone with the cleansing light of reentry as he descended towards his ruin of a throne. As he dropped towards Terra he could dimly see the Sun and Luna, glowing brightly on each horizon. The next dawn would be one under his rule, where humanity would again thrive.

He made landfall with a deafening crash, before setting himself on a path towards the doorway of his home for ten millennia. The Eternity Gate's imposing architecture slowly grew in his vision, its florid depictions of war showing men and women climbing down a mountain whilst bathing the battlefield under them with fire. Far above, angels of battle sung their glorious songs of war.

The God-Emperor glowered at his gate, and it groaned as aged gears moved in line with his will. Splitting in the middle with a great creaking sound, the massive doorway slowly inched open. Watching the gap widen, he stepped forwards into a hallway that extended further than the light could show.

As far as his human perception stretched, men stood guard, turning in a daze to watch the Eternity Gate open. Two Titans stood by the doorway, and hurriedly stepped back from the moving structures to avoid their immense girth. Legions of men underneath scrambled and ran from both the wide doors of the holy entrance and the hustling war machines.

The Emperor's golden armor glowed under the light of torches hung up along the great hall in front of him. The Titans were the closest to him, and after a moment of silence as the Gates stopped moving, seemed to keel over. Midway through the movement, one lost footing and fell, its feet unable to keep it standing in that stance. As the Imperator Titan crashed just short of him, its crew spilled out of whatever ports they could and stumbled to their knees beside their weaponry.

Quirking an eyebrow as the other Titan threw itself to the ground with a great crash in some display of submission, the God-Emperor of Mankind watched the Adeptus Custodes prostrate themselves to him as one.

"Imperium of Man!" His shout reverberated through the halls of the Imperial Palace. Dimly, he heard the machinery in the fallen Titans fizzle and explode, but he kept talking. "For ten thousand years have I slumbered, watching this galaxy decay into decadence, but now I have awakened! I am powerful again, and nothing will stop me from purging this inhumanity from Mankind!" His people stood slowly after his proclamation, silent until the great cry rang from the Titan crews.

"Cleanse the stars! Rebuild Mankind in the Emperor's image!" The bellows caught on, and he smiled to himself as the young men high-fived each other enthusiastically.

Shyly, one of the engineers who had first rallied the Space Marines far back neared him. His eyes were wide as he looked straight up at the God-Emperor's fearsome figure.

"What is it, young one?" His voice rumbled powerfully, and the young man couldn't help but step back. Gathering courage again, he stepped closer and took off his helmet, showing a mass of brown hair to the Emperor.

"You're really the Emperor?" He squinted up at the man's rugged visage, black eyes fascinatingly peering at the long scar adorning his left cheek. "Wow, I never thought I'd see you. Sir." He looked back at the legions of men celebrating the return of their Emperor, and then back. "Dude, Emperor, sir. Can I touch you?"

"I... yes. You needn't give me titles, young one." The vanguard of humanity watched with slight trepidation as the boy reached out and touched his left forearm, before flinching back.

"You're really real," he murmured. "Really..." The boy dropped to his knees and hugged one of the Emperor's legs. "May I suck your cock, Mr. Divine One, sir?"

"No. Just go back to your crew. Our holy crusade is nigh. Get ready, young one."

--__--

As it was, reigning the Imperium in was quite easy. Within weeks, Terra had submitted to his rule as one, its Hives recognizing the Emperor that had exploded out of his Throne, and his military might in two Titans and over ten thousand Space Marines. If his visage and enlightening presence did not win the people over, his super soldiers did.

As was always the case with the Imperium of Man, not everything went well. Within days the news spread from every corner of the Hive World that no food was being shipped in from the vast multitude of planets under the rule of mankind.

"Shit," he uttered when he came to the conclusion that there was no way the planet was going to feed itself. So he looked to the stars.

Serenely hovering above the glowing urban sprawl of Terra's Hives, the Imperial Fleet confusedly went about their days, knowing nothing about the situation below but awaiting orders from any authority. The Twelve Lords of Terra shat themselves quietly as the Emperor got into a large shuttle and blasted off into space.

The Battlecruiser he boarded seemed to be the best-maintained ship in the myriad that drifted above the Atmosphere, and he immediately walked past thousands of curious men who did nothing to impede his progress towards the bridge of the ship. The captain was a grizzled bald man with one eye, who stood from his throne to meet the visitor.

His sneer shattered in the face of the magnificent figure twice his size, who looked down at him without a word. "Gaaaah-god emprah?" The deity sighed as the man collapsed. The captain's second in command ran up to him and fell to his knees, grabbing at one of the Emperor's feet in wonder.

"God-Emperor, oh flawless one, what do you require of us mortals?" He whimpered as an enormous hand reached for his shoulder and pulled him into a standing position.

"Terra has no food. Why?"

"Oh my lord and God, I am afraid I know the reason. We have not received communications from any installations beyond Terra and Luna for the past thirty days. There have been no recorded Warp Storms, but our Psykers have lost their entire connection to the Warp. We have been gearing up and sending calls throughout the galaxy for more ships in case this is a plot of the Ruinous Powers, but as of yet we have received no response." He panted slightly after his report.

The God-Emperor looked towards space through one of the ship's massive windows. Mars twinkled dimly in the distance. His eyes closed and his body glowed with psychic power as his decision was made, and suddenly the clouds of Terra stopped moving, its lights stopped switching on and off. The planet became inert. Its orbit continued as normal, but all communications abruptly stopped, as a young man reported in wonder from behind the throne.

"We need to feed our people, Captain." The Emperor looked down at the squirrelly man.

"Lieutenant, sir, oh divine one," the officer corrected.

"You're Captain now. We must go to Mars. If what I fear has happened, then that must be our target. Call our fleet, leave no ship behind if you can. We must go to the fourth planet. We will eradicate the only threat that stands against the Imperium's might... and then..." The Emperor looked towards the stars again, pausing for a moment to watch Terra's inert biodome as he scanned the heavens. "And then!" He shouted, raising his fist triumphantly to the gathered masses, "_WE FARM!_"

--__--

"What the hell do you mean there's no dragon?" The God-Emperor of Mankind yanked off his straw hat, putting aside a shovel as he turned his gaze from his crops, which looked suspiciously similar to a pile of crushed rocks, focusing instead on the Imperial Officer who had spoken. He awkwardly pulled at the plaid shirt that barely fit atop his golden power armor, and glared at the man in the repurposed EVA suit. The Emperor could breathe in the Martian atmosphere with little trouble, his Custodes Astartes likewise, but the normal man could not stand the planet's atmosphere at all.

The roar of chainswords echoed through the valley as his armies used their weapons for the less practical purpose of farming in the barren world. Nearby, a Custodes in Terminator Armor diligently tilled the harsh ground with his close-quarters weapon, straw hat shaking in the wind of the red planet.

The man in a space suit coughed nervously, scratching at his visor as he pondered about how to explain. "Surveys of the entire planet have turned up no presence of anything you warned us about. There are some anomalies in the southern pole, but we believe that is the magnetic field."

"Check it anyway, the Chaos Dragon was initially proposed to be somewhere in the equator, but it could be anywhere. It is one of the kin that can, alone, threaten the entire Imperium of Man... and at this point, we are but a shade of our former might." The Emperor sighed as he replaced his hat, sticking a long piece of grass into his mouth. As the man in front of him bowed and trod away to the shuttle nearby, he looked down and continued to dig a small trench with his tiny shovel.

Further searches turned up nothing, and within the end of the week the God-Emperor gave his activities some thought. He accosted one of the golden armor-clad Space Marines taken from Terra, and queried about what was happening in the surrounding valley.

"Why are we making preparations to farm? We can't even grow anything." The Terran Space Marine in front of him shrugged, a long piece of grass hanging out of his visor. The Emperor groaned and looked to the desolate sky of Mars for a second before whipping off his straw hat. "Dammit, we've been wasting time! Terra is frozen amongst the stars, and I've been attempting this inefficient method that will only work towards Man's downfall if it continues!"

He glared at the plaid-garbed warrior, watching the super soldier straighten warily in the face of his wrath. "Send the message to the fleet. I will be moving to the Battlecruiser and will lead the farming project. It will take years using all of our resources, but before Terra returns to the galaxy as a moving world, Mars shall be prepared to feed it, as a hydroponic world! Afterwards... eventually!" He looked skywards, raising a fist triumphantly. "We _FARM!_" The Custodes roared and raised his chainsword high, revving it up.

The Emperor cleared dirt from his mouth. "With proper farming equipment!"

The valley exploded with cheers, the ten thousand fists of the Adeptus Custodes thrusting into the air.

--__--

The new captain of _Imperial Renewal_ quietly looked over various reports from the red planet that shone beyond one of the spaceship's great windows. Beside his Captain's throne was another, twice as large and gaudy, where the God-Emperor of Mankind sat. The crew of the Battlecruiser's bridge had long grown used to the revered figure that sat amongst them, often looking over reports from his Custodes that had been sent back to the frozen Terra to cleanse its people.

"Hurrah!" The Emperor suddenly shouted, holding up a paper triumphantly. "The last elements of dissent have been purged from Terra! Now our entire focus can be put on..." He looked down at his papers. "An anomaly near the fringes of the system, as well as the uncovering of the disturbance in Mars."

His enormous form stood, golden armor seeming to glow under the little light required to work. As he looked around the stations happily, he noted that his people didn't seem as enthused as he. "Emperor, my lord!" A squirrelly operator cried out, "You've never elaborated on who these dissenters are! We know Your cause is holy, but we don't know what it is!" Months of being around the regal figure had yet to turn him from a nervous wreck around the Emperor, but his attempt was fine.

"Why, the Adeptus Mechanicus! Their cult following the Necron Gods was unforgivable, combined with their tinkering of my Golden Throne..." He shrugged. "They were a threat to humanity as a whole. Now they are not."

Various people around the bridge seemed scandalized, one man even springing away from the display screen in front of him, protecting his face. "The machine spirits!" He cried, as if the monitor would explode.

"That's another reason; the Mechanicus have led the entire Imperium into a fear of technology, talking about it as if it were religion and not science! The Imperium of Man under my reign regarded science and logic above all else, and these men and women have ruined mankind's empire!" The Emperor's teeth were gritted as he spoke passionately. "Besides, what a scandalous thought, that machines have _spirits_?"

The Battlecruiser's lights blinked out suddenly, and the ship was engulfed in silence.

"We're exorcising the entire fleet," the Emperor grunted.

--__--

The Frigate _Overpower_ jetted along the stars, its crew relaxing in the face of the empty systems around. Crew members listlessly strolled up and down the mighty ship's decks, taking a rest from the harsh task-mastering their Captain put them through in the average day. Said official was resting in his cabin, leaving his raised platform in the bridge empty for the first time in weeks as his lieutenant chatted up a navigator beside one of the observation ports.

The relative peace was maintained even when there were reports of a breach into their space empire; they were unmatched in the galaxy, and nothing would change that fact- upstart Xenos being discovered or not. The Lieutenant leisurely walked to his command station, looking at the data given to him by a cute navigator.

"A couple of ships were detected in the Morningstar Cluster... That's barely within our patrol range." He scratched at his chest armor in thought more than in discomfort, before handing the data-pad back to the vibrant crew member. "Thank you, Erven." She nodded, before smoothly walking back to her post.

The Lieutenant hummed in thought, before walking to a comm. Taking a seat at his Captain's station, he switched it on and contacted the group that had sent message of the unknowns. "Stolis, do you copy? Commander Stolis."

"Aah, Lieutenant Intredus," the voice of the Commander of the small scouting force that patrolled the brims of their territory rang back tonelessly. "I trust you've received our report? Four ships have been found entering our space through the Horizon System."

"Yes, I did. Although you're being quite a bit more detailed than your written report. I'm thankful for the promptness, but I wasn't sure whether to expect two ships or an entire fleet. 'A couple' isn't very detailed," the Lieutenant noted as he leaned back calmly, looking over various other reports.

"I'm sorry about that... I sent the message off as quickly as I could... after all, these contacts are pretty big." The Commander sounded nervous. "Their largest is about fifteen times the size of our leading Cruiser. Quite intimidating, although it does look very low-tech."

"Fifteen times." Intredus repeated dully. "Do you have a bead on them?"

"Oh yes, of course. If one finds an unidentified alien race calmly touring his own home system, one has failed in some vital area... They're going towards the Monsoon System... not sure why, though. Their speed is impressive for such bulky ships, we're having a bit of trouble following them without showing ourselves. Thankfully the two systems are separated by a huge nebula, so keeping hidden amongst the dust won't be a problem. I trust you will be there when they arrive?"

"Oh, of course. As we speak I'm transmitting orders. These ships sound like a serious threat- when do you estimate they will enter the System?" The commanding figure silently waved to the surrounding Navigators to mobilize the crew, a task undertaken by a vibrant young Ensign.

Intredus waited silently as the Commander, he assumed, added up figures, before a startled shout rang out of the communicator and through the bridge. "Stolis, is there a problem?"

"They... they've sped up! Estimated time of arrival is... now! I think they found their target..." In the background, panic could be heard blooming around the Commander.

"Their target? In the Monsoon System? But what-" His eyes widened in realization. "Arm up, arm up!" The Lieutenant bounded out of the station, his seat nearly toppling from his exit. "Wake up the Captain, contact the Fleet! They're going for Morningstar-4!" Memories of past follies by his civilization spurred Intredus on as he sprinted down the halls of his ship, gathering up bits and pieces of his crew. Eventually he decided to stop running and sent out groups of soldiers to round up the entire contingent inside the Frigate.

Outside of the organized chaos within the ship, a small task force of three Cruisers and a dozen Frigates zoomed into the system, serenely taking its position behind the System Garrison of the _Overpower_ and the dozens of Fighters that drifted around it.

"This is Commander Stolis, I've brought back the patrols... this jump probably damaged the engines of all of our ships, but we got here before them. That's what counts." The broadcast from the Cruiser _Victorious_ sent a wave of relief through the hastily-put together fleet. The next broadcast, sent in the voice of a worried Navigator, wasn't as reassuring, however.

"They're one tenth of an astronomical unit away. We'll be able to see them in a moment...!"  
The group of unknowns drifted into the system, lackadaisically heading for the massive glowing structure in orbit around a small dwarf planet before they took notice of the small welcoming fleet put together.

"Damn, they're _big_," a voice stammered through the comms. The head ship, twice as large as any of its companions, slowly turned towards the mass of Cruisers and Frigates, its great horned prow pointing directly at the _Overpower_, which quietly drifted at the head of its formation.

Within, Lieutenant Intredus had barely dragged his Captain into the bridge, the aged commanding officer grumbling unprofessionally at having been awakened, when an otherworldly sound exploded from the comms.

"They're... they're hailing us!" Intredus rushed towards the station, looking at the received data critically before he was flung aside by the Captain. The older officer hunched over the station and traced a long finger over the sound waves received, before replaying the message.

"This is familiar... no alien race should sound familiar. There's something wrong with this..." He stood, crossing his arms as he thought. The bridge was overtaken by noise again as another message came in. Suddenly, Intredus' eyes widened as he righted himself and walked up to the Captain.

"That's a Prothean message! This goes along with the Prothean First Contact protocol; aim your lead ship towards the other race's lead ship, and blast them with greetings until... until..." The Lieutenant's eyes narrowed. "They send the message thrice before assuming it's hostile!" His visage became horrified as the message boomed through the bridge again.

"That was the third... what are you waiting for, Lieutenant!? Respond!" The Captain yanked the younger officer down towards the station, pushing him into the comm. Intredus clutched it confusedly for a moment, before shouting back something foreign. Immediately, he received a response. The foreign manner of speech went right over the crew's heads, but the Lieutenant continued to speak. "What're you saying, Lieutenant?"

"They're... requesting permission to board, and offering an exchange of language codexes to make communicating easier... It seems they're equipped with translation devices, so I would say that is the way to go. I'm not quite proficient with Prothean beyond the Protocols..." The unknown ships communicated again, their message booming through the bridge once more. "Yes or no, Captain?"

The hardened officer stood erect for a moment, closing his eyes in deep thought. "They're enormous, and entire magnitudes more armed than us, correct?" As Intredus nodded, he grunted. "It was rhetoric, but yes. Let them in. Their ships are large, but they on their own are not likely to be massive on their own, too. If we can lure their commanders in, we may be able to hold them hostage until our fleet can back us up."

"I don't know if that is wise, Captain," Commander Stolis' voice rang from the comm. "Being rash will-" before he could finish his statement, he was overpowered by another message from the leading vessel.

"I'll take that as a yes either way," Intredus mumbled as he leaned into the comm. He hurriedly sent back an agreement, and sighed in relief after they responded. "Okay, they're coming into this ship."

The Captain groaned, before nodding at his Lieutenant. "Very well. If they look like they can be subdued, do it. If not, perhaps diplomacy would be best."

"Captain, Lieutenant. I detect a shuttle exiting the largest ship. It's rather bulky, but it's very fast," a nondescript Navigator called out.

Within moments the two commanders had moved to the airlocks; not long thereafter, the small vessel shook as the shuttle hooked up to it. The airlocks began to open, and the Captain put his arms behind his back, puffing his chest out authoritatively. Intredus simply crossed his arm, awaiting for the arrival of their guests.

Three figures stepped through the airlock, nearly obscuring the interior of their vessel behind them. The two aliens standing to the sides were nearly twice their size, while the Xenos in the middle was nearly twice his companions' size. Their too-round, white faces were topped by thick, unsightly masses of hair.

The middle figure, clad in bulky, pitch-black armor, wordlessly reached forward and handed the captain a small gray device. The officer shakily took the object, and peered down at it. "This... is a Prothean design. Did they have this put aside for First Contact? How curious..." He shook the thoughts out of his mind, before reaching towards the back of his neck. Within a moment, he pulled out a small white object shaped similarly to the one given to him by the largest alien. He pressed the two together, and after his own beeped, handed the gray one to his Lieutenant.

The officer nodded at him and at the Xenos, before walking back towards the bridge with the device. The Captain stared at his translator before blinking at putting it back on his uniform, calmly reaching back to his neck to replace it there. He looked up to the tall beings, who were staring intently with beady eyes.

"Do you understand me," a deep voice that shook his very bones questioned as soon as his arms returned to his sides. "Alien?"

"I would rather you did not call me that, _Alien._" He glared.

The hulking creature displayed two long rows of straight teeth. "Tell me what to call you, then."

"What about you do so first?" He countered.

"Very well. I am Primarch Hoth of Terra. My grand Battleship _Emperor's Will_ and its entire crew, along with the Imperium of Man, extend a warm hand of friendship towards our galactic neighbor." His enormous gauntleted fist, likely far from warm, was precariously placed in front of the Captain. The officer stared at the fist curiously, before the Primarch lowered it.

The Captain's eyes closed in thought, before they opened, slightly narrower than before. "I, Captain Velarn of the Frigate _Overpower_, am... happy to receive that... hand. I'm sure the Turian peoples and the races of the Citadel will welcome the Imperium of Man into the galactic stage."


	2. Contact

**Oh, what's up, guys. Decided I might as well update it here since I have free time. Whee!**

Captain Velarn blinked warily as he tried to find any resemblance in his larger alien counterpart. The Turian's mandibles twitched nervously as the Human, uncomfortably sitting in one of his crew's stations in the midst of the main deck, looked around with what seemed like a curious light in his eyes. Now that he thought about it, these humans seemed much like Asari.

The two smaller men to each side of the Primarch motionlessly stared ahead, their stern faces not giving any emotion away. The Primarch flexed his long fingers.

Very large Asari. These men seemed like enormous brutes, but he didn't doubt at least the one in the middle was extremely intelligent- he commanded that enormous dreadnought, after all.

Having done enough thinking, Velarn spoke up. "Man wishes to begin relations with the Citadel Council, I presume?"

Hoth's bright eyes seemed to shine as his face contorted into a curious expression. "Yes, Mankind believes that joining the Galactic Stage alongside the government that holds the most jurisdiction over it would be the most beneficial path to follow. Humanity has much to offer in return for an alliance with it."

Mankind. Human. Terms for his race, it seemed. Velarn stored that away as the Man's mouth opened lightly, to show off his enormous, flat teeth. Velarn pondered about the ramifications of their existence- were these Humans some sort of herbivorous race that had somehow flourished enough to propel themselves into space?

"We knew we would make contact sooner rather than later, even if we didn't completely expect it to be peaceful. We are thankful you didn't deign to begin hostilities with us," Hoth continued. Velarn felt his blood stop flowing for a second, before his mandibles shuddered and he breathed once more.

"You were expecting hostiles? So you really meant to fire upon us were your hails not responded to?" Velarn thought back to his first reaction to ships moving towards a Mass Relay: Teach them a lesson. Knock them out of the sky. Were the scouts to overlook those ships' sizes, he had no doubt that his own task force would not have survived the engagement he had planned on starting

The Primarch nodded, prompting Velarn to continue. "What are Man's capabilities, Primarch Hoth? Is what has entered this system your entire fleet?"

Hoth's face contorted into another expression- he could recognize it from the Asari, as well. A frown. "No, it is not. The majority of our fleet is assigned to the task of defending our farms and homeworld. Our expedition forces are only one small part of our Imperial Navy."

"... Farms?" Velarn blinked. Agriculture was a very small part of the economy of any Citadel race- in fact, he couldn't think of any planet that still was predominantly tasked to that facet of economy.

"Humanity has faced many problems with overpopulation and starvation in recent times. As result, we faced a great need to expand as our main food sources fell apart and our infrastructure failed when we needed it the most. Were it not for our Emperor, we would have been lost. His leadership led us to follow a policy of rapid assimilation of all terrestrial worlds in order to support our crops, mainly using terraforming to create suitable environments. As for our overpopulation, we do try to fit as many people as we can on each of our farmworlds so as to ease the strain upon Terra." The Primarch leaned forward, the station underneath him groaning under the strain. "And only now are we seeing the fruits of our growth- for the first time in our history, the Imperium of Man is seeing a surplus! With that in mind, our search for other species in this desolate galaxy only increased- we seek to share the benefits of the Great Harvest."

The Primarch peered quizzically at Velarn, before holding a hand out in front of one of his 'guards'. The man nodded, reaching into a slot of his golden armor. The soldier puled out and handed his superior a small sack, before looking forward without emotion once more.

Hoth peered into the sack and then at Velarn. He smiled once more- Velarn's eyes narrowed and his mandibles straightened. His talons discretely reached for a switch at the side of his waist. "_What is the Man doing?"_ He asked in his native language, a dialect from the Veyond cluster. To the side, Intredus, who was from the same System as himself, seemed fascinated at the Man's armor. The Lieutenant snapped out of it upon hearing the query, peering at his Captain.

"_As with Asari, there is no knowing what he means by showing his teeth- I cannot be sure, but I do hope it won't be endangering,"_ he responded as well as he could, but seemed confused. They noticed the Primarch had stopped looking through the sack, instead watching the interactions between the two Turians.

The three were silent for a few moments, before Hoth reached for the back of his neck to turn off his translator. His eyes narrowed in thought, before he clumsily spoke in the same language. "_You do not worry. I am being happy. No danger. No trouble, nice face."_ He beamed at the Turians.

The various crew members around the deck, trying to go about their maintenance of the ship despite the First Contact happening in their midst, could not continue feigning disdain any further. Dozens of eyes stared at Hoth as he reached for his translator. "Shuttle rides don't last very long, but a few minutes are enough to learn..." the Primarch paused, before continuing with a smile. "Little things." He pulled a small yellow square out of the sack, holding it between two fingers and extending it towards Velarn.

The Captain curiously grabbed the small thing, peering at it. "What is this?"

"Corn!" The Primarch seemed enthused. "Your race looks like a family native to our homeworld, that has spread to many of our farmworlds as well. Avians love corn. Try it."

The Turian peered down at the corn square. He squeezed down on it slightly, feeling for its hardness. Hoth looked at him expectantly.

Velarn reluctantly opened his mouth, spreading his mandibles wide as he placed the small yellow foodstuff within. His maw closed readily, and he used his tongue to move it around to get a taste. Mandibles twitching at the weird flavor, the Turian moved it towards his teeth, and he bit down. With a crunch, the corn broke apart in his mouth, and the taste spread.

For many moments, the Men and Lieutenant watched the Captain eat the corn, looking around with an increasingly amused expression. His mandibles twitched, and soon he looked down at his right hand. He stared at it for a long moment, clenching it into a fist before a snort escaped through his snout.

Intredus blinked as his Captain broke into laughter, absently swallowing the corn in his mouth as he dropped from his seat, before continuing to laugh from the floor.

Hoth frowned at the hysterical Turian, watching him froth at the mouth before reaching into the sack and grabbing some corn for himself and his two bodyguards. He offered a small yellow square to Intredus, whose mandibles twitched in horror.

And thus began the Imperium of Man's relations with the Citadel.

"Nothing is right in this universe anymore!" A Batarian cried in despair as he flung himself off of the dock, floating away and continuing to scream. The noise cut out as he left the kinetic barriers of the gargantuan Citadel station, but the Batarian diplomat could be seen writhing as he drifted off into the distance.

To the other side, a shuttle as large as a small Frigate tried to fit into the dock, but its bulky shape disallowed it from doing so. The Turian helplessly watched what looked like a decorated metal block move around in an attempt to fit in, thrusters swiveling desperately as it looked for somewhere to dock.

His comm beeped. The guard hurriedly reached for the side of his head, poking at the communicator with one talon. "Yes?"

The dock overseer's voice blared into his head. "The Human shuttle's pilot is asking if the kinetic barriers extend to the shipping lanes. I'm not sure about what they mean to do, so be ready for anything."

The Turian's face, covered in blue markings, scrunched up in thought. "I'll try. Should I keep my guard up or be prepared to help?"

"Guard up? Are you stupid? Do you see that thing out there? No, be prepared to help. If they're in any way hostile I doubt there's anything you can do." The C-Sec guard sighed as he peered towards the end of the docks. In his peripheral vision he could see the Wards stretching off into infinity.

Beyond the ends of the Citadel's arms, Widow happily shone on, although it was largely obscured by a rectangular silhouette. Spires extending beyond common sense and enormous avian statue shining golden under the star's glow, the Human dreadnought _Imperial Might_ silently drifted in space, awaiting the return of the Emperor.

The Turian peered back at the shuttle, which has stopped its struggle to find a place to sit in. The question came back to him. _**Do**__ kinetic barriers extend to the shipping lanes?_

The shuttle seemed to split from end to end, and the guard flinched, before seeing it was just opening up. "What in the stars...?"

"It all seems to be fine! Sir, come on out!" The bellowed reassurance was the only warning the Turian got before a large grey shape leapt out of the shuttle. He flung himself to the floor before the Man barreled over him, landing with a thud just before the alien stopped beside him with a clank. "I am sorry, alien friend!" An enormous hand extended towards him, prompting the Turian to take it. With no sign of effort, the grey human pulled him to his feet.

On his feet again, the C-Sec personnel looked up into an emotionless helmet. It seemed to be fitted with a breathing apparatus, but his eyes were drawn to the visor, which reflected the star's rays with a red tint.

"Are you the Emperor?" The bewildered Turian stared in wonder at the enormous figure, who laughed heartily as he patted his shoulder. The guard grunted as the heavy hand made his knees go weak, but continued looking up.

"No, no, alien friend. I in no way can match the Emperor's Magnificence. Once you gaze upon His visage you will understand." The Human looked at the shuttle, waving. The guard absently wondered about how he could move his arms so fluently with his gigantic pauldrons as another figure leapt out.

"You know, the kinetic barriers are there. You could just step out and the momentum would get you here eventually," the Turian, disengaging himself from the grey man, commented as he peered at the new figure.

An even larger human, clad in red armor, shrugged his enormous shoulders. "Emperor, all clear! Come on, sir."

The next human, appearing to have heard the Turian's advice, lackadaisically stepped out of the shuttle, golden armor shining in the star's glow. As he neared, the guard's mandibles spread further and further apart in wonder.

The Emperor of Mankind landed lightly, lifting one of his gigantic hands and holding up the shortest, thickest finger on his left hand in a curious gesture as he turned towards the elevator that led to the wards. The medium-sized human nodded at him as he turned towards the Turian.

"Thank you for your... assistance, Turian. You may report that the Emperor is now on His way to meet your leaders, and that we will also require a guide towards your government's chambers." He turned back towards the Emperor as the smallest human walked towards the elevator.

The Emperor beamed at the Turian. Said guard nodded curiously as he holstered his weapon. With one hand he pressed his communicator as he looked down at the other. He lifted one talon, thinking about how to emulate the human gesture. "Overseer, the human diplomats are here. Their 'Emperor' is escorted by two heavily-armed guards... thick powered armor and firearms as large as missile launchers holstered like simple pistols. Their mass accelerators are very bulky- probably less advanced than ours. That may be the case with their entire arsenal- everything they bear is large and cumbersome, and may not be as sophisticated as our own technology."

"Very well, guard. Anything else?"

"... Well, they want a guide. And I can hardly blame them; they've never been here before." He turned from the humans to the star, alternating between peering at the faraway dreadnought to his hand. He tried to shift his talons into the gesture

"Tell them where to go; I can't give up any men right now." The guard looked back at the three humans, who awkwardly stood as they waited for the elevator.

"The delegation of a new species has shown up... and you don't want to send anyone to aid them? Sir, I believe that is far from the wisest decision... I will take him there myself; send in the next guard early."

"I didn't say-" the guard cut in with a growl, garnering the humans' attention as his mandibles shook angrily.

"This is horrible conduct, overseer. A new powerful species' dignitaries show up, and you outright ignore their appearance? Executor Pallin will hear of this. But now I have an important task to attend to." He shut off his communicator, turning towards the humans. "Sirs!"

The man clad in grey armor responded enthusiastically. "Yes, alien friend? Have you been sent word of where we should meet our guide?"

Blinking at the label used once more, the Turian nodded. "In a way. I will be your guide."

The Emperor patted the human in red on the shoulder, grinning at the guard, before he spoke up. "I COULD NOT HELP BUT HEAR YOUR ARGUMENT, ALIEN FRIEND. YOU ARE TRULY NOBLE, TAKING UP THE TASK OF BEING OUR GUIDE. I SHALL COMMEND YOUR ACTIONS TO YOUR LEADERS, AND WOULD LIKE TO KNOW YOUR NAME," he loudly proclaimed.

"I... I am Tiara Vakarian." The human in red blinked at him, but the Emperor continued.

"PLEASED TO MEET YOU, TIARA. I AM THE EMPEROR OF MANKIND. I HAVE HEARD TURIANS ENJOY CORN. WOULD YOU LIKE SOME?" Following a gesture by the enormous golden-armored man, the smallest human reached into a pouch and excitedly pulled out a freshly shucked ear of the crop.

"No, I'm fine, sir. And you don't need to shout," the Turian backed away slightly, knowing of Captain Velarn's story.

"I APOLOGIZE; I DID NOT REALIZE I WAS SHOUTING." The Emperor paused. "Is this more to your liking?"

"Yes sir, it is."

"I APOLOGIZE ONCE MORE, BUT I CAN HARDLY HEAR MYSELF THAT WAY. HOW I USUALLY SPEAK IS BEST FOR ME."

The man in grey piped up as the elevator opened, steel sheet giving way to a glass door that opened in a moment. "Sir, I know You enjoy speaking so all can hear, but they may have different customs. We might offend them by accident."

The three humans looked at Tiara as they walked into the elevator. He peered at them quizzically, wisely choosing not to respond.

"I COMMEND YOUR COUNCIL FOR PUTTING WHAT SEEMS LIKE CONSIDERABLE EFFORT INTO MAKING THIS STATION SUCH A WONDERFUL LIVING ENVIRONMENT. IF I MAY, ARE THERE FISH IN THESE LAKES?" The Emperor looked around as the Mass Transit shuttle zoomed off in silence.

Tiara looked up from charging C-Sec for the trip from the spaceports in the middle of the station's ring to the Presidium, letting go of the hailing station as he finished. The Turian realized he would catch flak for the unauthorized transaction, but he had more pressing matters to attend to.

"No, sir, I don't believe so. However, only the groundskeepers would know for sure. If you'd like, I may contact one and get back to you on that." The Emperor's hearty laugh did as good a job at dismissing the his worries as it did at drawing attention. As Tiara nodded in acquiescence, he turned towards the only way into the Citadel Tower: a large elevator guarded by an elite C-Sec officer. Said elite leaned against the pristine wall to the left of the elevator, peering down at a rifle that looked like a toy in his talons.

He knew that there was a support force of dozens in the immediate vicinity of the elevator, should there be and attempted break-in, but the officer, a heavily-armored, brown Turian almost one and a half times his size, seemed fit to hold back even a Krogan legion.

As the trio of humans, led by Tiara, neared, the guard stood straight, raising his weapon in warning. His brown eyes scanned the four, before they focused on the small cobalt Turian in the lead. "Officer Tiara, Customs." His right mandible rose in curiosity. "Escorting dignitaries is far from what you're expected to do. I have received a report of your insubordination to Overseer Durise, which shall be looked over at a later time." As the smaller officer nodded stiffly, he continued, peering at the three humans. "Envoys from the Imperium of Mankind..."

He didn't speak further, almost as if prompting a reasoning as to why they were there. The smallest human, in grey armor, spoke up as the silence wore on.

"Alien friend, I am Space Marine Veteran Gaius, coming with our Emperor of Mankind and another of His subjects, Primarch Jon." His enthusiastic voice, matching the Emperor's in strength but not in volume, had no effect on the Turian. The silence stretched for a beat. "So, will you let us through? We have an appointment..."

"No." The guard tilted his head back imperiously. "As per standard protocol, unless there is an emergency, any races not affiliated with the Council shall not be allowed into the Citadel Tower before their meeting with the Council is immediately impending. You are to wait until that time is due. As of now the Human envoy is three standard galactic hours early. You may wait for the 280 minutes wherever you'd like. The plazas of the Presidium are rather pleasant, if dull." He blinked, seeming as if he was trying to remember something. "Oh, I'm sorry for the inconvenience."

The Space Marine's pauldrons rose as he set his shoulders. The Primarch furrowed his brow. The Emperor's teeth disappeared under his lips. Tiara's instincts screamed at him to run, but he forced himself to stand still.

The brown Turian directed a look of amusement towards him as the humans began to appear increasingly hostile. Tiara's sharp eye caught a glint of light in the distance, and he felt his facade creak under the pressure as he watched a Salarian set up an Anti-Material Rifle.

Like a Hanar whose short tentacles got yanked by an angry Krogan- something he'd seen a handful of times during his career as many disgruntled clients loudly and physically protested to the Hanar's surprisingly harsh terms in trades- the pressure deflated as the most enormous human turned away from the smug Turian guard.

"VERY WELL, CITADEL GUARD. WE SHALL NOT BE LOITERING AT YOUR DOORSTEP WHILE WE AWAIT YOUR MEETING. WE WILL RETURN AS SCHEDULED, IN THREE HOURS. TIARA, YOU SPOKE ABOUT THIS STATION'S ARMS AS WE WERE BROUGHT HERE; I'M SURE YOU KNOW OF SOME LOCATIONS TO VISIT UNTIL OUR MEETING TIME COMES UP."

Tiara blinked up at the Emperor, before moving to follow the retreating dignitaries. He looked back to growl at the guard, who had stopped paying attention to him and the humans.

The hailing station wasn't very far from the elevator, so within seconds he was picking at the glowing orange display with his talons. _Extra large shuttle, Elcor-transportation._ The label didn't quite fit the passengers, but it had worked from the docks to the Presidium.

"Tiara, tell us of the Wards," Space Marine Gaius prompted.

"Well, the area I was thinking about taking you," the Turian paused, before hurriedly adding a "sirs" to his statement. "The area I was thinking about was an observation deck in Ward 12; that would be Garumat Ward. I used to go there a lot when I started out my C-Sec career, after blowing an arms trade in a warehouse in Ward 17. I happened upon it by chance, in one of my early guard shifts, but soon I was assigned to the surrounding Wards, and thus got a lot of time to watch the spaceports of the Citadel from there." Tiara looked around, waiting for their transportation to arrive.

"Oh? I'm sure it's quite a nice view," the Primarch, Jon, commented.

"Yes sir, it is indeed. It is unparalleled in the Citadel, I believe, for that is at the level where Frigates of the Citadel Defense go out to. There is no shortage of the starships nor the stars, since Frigates are very small and don't cover very much of the view. The only observation deck that compares, I believe, is that of Ward 81, which is at the Cruiser level. However, that is also where the Destiny Ascension likes to patrol, so more often than not you'll be seeing the side of the ship more than the nebula and stars beyond the arms." Tiara's eyes gained a faraway look.

Gaius patted the Turian's back heartily, making the small guard stumble. As he regained his composure, the marine laughed. "I see you enjoy this place very much. I don't doubt we will as well. For all our time in the cosmos, there is always more to see." Tiara nodded enthusiastically, before looking up.

Their shuttle zoomed in silently, coming to a stop behind the hailing station, in a demarcated area. The four moved towards the back of the sleek shuttle, which looked, for all intents and purposes, like a smooth white brick. Tiara continuing on. "I don't get to see much of the stars from there anymore, however. Recently my work has taken me to the spaceport, where the star kills any lights I may see around it. Likewise, it isn't all too comfortable an area to be in. I do have my off-time, during which I go there as much as possible, but work has been increasingly demanding recently. Sirs." His mandibles drooped, even as he instinctively added the title at the end of his story.

Tiara climbed into the shuttle behind the Space Marine, moving to the side wall to take a seat at the raised area extending from the front of the vehicle to the very door of the shuttle. The Elcor seat, wide in order to fit the large grey aliens, was almost large enough for him to lie down in whilst keeping his feet on the ground. However, being in the presence of high-ranking individuals beat down the very notion.

With a loud clanging sound, Gaius leaned into the wall of the shuttle. Although far larger than the Turian, he was still only the size of some of he largest Elcor he'd seen. The Primarch and Emperor were different cases, sitting somewhat comfortably at their seat. The always-enthusiastic Space Marine deigned to continue the conversation, if only to to make their escort less downcast.

"Now, Tiara, don't worry. If your workload has been expanding a noticeable amount, then that must mean you're bound to get a promotion soon! Your superiors are likely piling more responsibilities onto your normal ones in order to see if you can handle the extra work. It reminds me of when I was a mere support for Titan's Titan Legion. I was assigned increasingly harsh duties and training sessions until I was seen as disciplined and skilled enough to stand alongside Veterans in the Sol Defense Legion. From then, my skills and rank only grew, until I came to my current place beside the Emperor Himself in the Emperor's Guard. I may not be as powerful or talented as Primarch Jon, but the Emperor recognizes that we are both at the peak of our capabilities, and that rise to power, for me, began with being given a huge workload back in my early years as a Space Marine."

The Turian blinked uncomprehendingly as the human stopped speaking. Gaius sat straighter, proudly, as Tiara looked down in thought before nodding slowly. "I... I guess I see what you mean... sir. Being taken from my off-time to do more work is only the first step of my meteoric rise to a Spectre!" He held up a clenched fist triumphantly. Gaius cheered, before the C-Sec guard hesitated. "Well, maybe that's too high a goal. Maybe one day I will be the Executor!"

Gaius' cheer was somewhat enthusiastic, but after that silence enveloped the shuttle as the shuttle moved silently. Tiara, mandibles flapping slightly in embarrassment, looked down at his Omni-tool. "We should be at Garumat Ward in three hundred seconds, sir. I should note, Garumat is an Elcor Ward, so I think it may be the most welcoming one for you right now, sirs. It is an expansive, open Ward, and there are very few spaces small enough that any of you would need to work to get through. Likewise, Elcor are extremely happy about outsiders, and as such they may be the race most enthusiastic about the entrance of humanity into the Galactic Stage."

As the Emperor and Gaius waited to get off the shuttle, Primarch Jon's mind was elsewhere. He spoke, for the first time that Tiara could remember. "Turian. Tiara Vakarian. I have not introduced myself, but Guard Gaius did quite a good job of that. I am Primarch Jon, the Emperor's Aide. If I may..." He looked to the side, short yellow 'hair' unable to sway as the Emperor's flowing brown organic fibers did.

"Yes, sir?"

"What does your name mean?" The Primarch scratched at his scalp, almost as if in embarrassment. "I've been wondering since I heard it."

"Oh!" Tiara seemed almost delighted to divulge the facts. "Tiara was a fierce six-legged predator which used to live in the rain forests of Palaven. My great-grandfather, alongside seven hundred of the best warriors of his time, went into the forests to eradicate the Tiara because of the huge amounts of damage it had been doing to cities located too close to its habitat. They lost three quarters of their numbers fighting it, and my great-grandfather was one of the last of those killed to die. He managed to see the last warriors slaying the beast before bleeding out, I have been told, but I doubt it. No one knows where the Tiara came from, but it had been walking the planet for hundreds of years, a hulking, nigh-unkillable beast that took millions of bullets to bring down. I am proud of my name; my father deemed me worthy of it, and I hope that my children will be as well."

Primarch Jon stared at the Turian, eyes wide.

He stared back. "You sounded perplexed, sir. What does Tiara mean in your language?"

The human looked down at his knees. "Nothing."

And they were off.

The feeling of inertia was notably missing to the Emperor and his escorts as the shuttle slowed to a stop. The mass effect cores on the bottom of the large white transport hummed loudly, sound reverberating through its mostly-hollow frame as they gently lowered it, but otherwise its occupants felt like they had when being ferried in the vacuum of space.

The shuttle, although bulky for a product of the Citadel races, still managed to look somewhat elegant as its entire rear wall split and spread wide open, to provide passage for its cargo. Tiara was the first to exit, peering out at the ward with raised mandibles. Gaius was next, turning his helmeted head to the happy-looking Turian. Jon nudged the smaller human forward as he walked out, before moving in turn as his Emperor strolled jauntily into the landing pad.

Tiara opened his arms grandly. "Sirs, welcome to Garumat Ward. The Elcor Ward."

A crowd of the grey aliens silently shuffled through the area in front of him. One of them looked towards them, before he broke off of the group. As it walked in their direction, the Turian stared at its expressionless visage quizzically.

It looked the C-Sec officer up and down. "Downtrodden: I apologize but I cannot give you a hug at this time, Turian. Hopeful: Perhaps you can ask your companions; they seem to be built for hugging better than I."

As Tiara lowered his arms, eyes widening and mandibles drooping. The large quadruped in front of him craned its neck upwards to stare at the trio of humans for a beat. Its beady black eyes widened in surprise. "Surprise: I am not familiar with your kind. Curiosity: Nothing in the daily broadcasts spoke about the discovery of a new race. Growing interest: C-Sec Officer, are these a Terminus race, am I simply confused, or," it paused, "Contained excitement: are these three members of a new prospective member of the Citadel?"

Gaius sounded pleased as he responded in the place of the small Turian. "Elcor friend! We are envoys from the Imperium of Mankind! We are pleased to encounter a race other than the Turian one in this station; diversity is king in the galaxy, after all! Much like a farm without a variety of crops will fail after a few seasons, the galactic stage would fall apart without many different races to hold it up!"

Tiara's shoulders shrunk as he coughed nervously. "Well, sir, there was a Batarian diplomat who was supposed to be your actual escort, but there was... an accident at the docking station."

The three humans shared a look, before Gaius waved his hand dismissively. "It is quite a shame, but we mustn't blame ourselves for accidents. Tiara, I trust you do not, so kindly take us to the observation deck you spoke of? If you'd like to join us, Elcor friend, you are welcome."

The Elcor was silent for a moment, mulling over it expressionlessly. "Disappointment: I am sorry, but I have to get to work." He paused. "Brightly: However, said work is at the Dekuunan Moon, one of the larger establishments of the Ward. If you'd like, I could offer each of you a drink on the house, as a welcome to the Citadel. Pondering: If... you can actually drink what we have. Dismissive, Warmly: Well, regardless of your compatibility, diversity is king. I am sure the club's patrons will be pleased at seeing customers other than Asari, Elcor and Salarian."

The Emperor chuckled heartily, piping up as the grey alien's head craned upwards. "THANK YOU, ELCOR FRIEND." He looked down at Tiara, who peered back quizzically. "PERHAPS WE CAN PUT OFF OUR VISIT TO THE OBSERVATION DECK TO ACCOMPANY OUR NEW FRIEND. THIS DEKUUNAN MOON WILL SURELY BENEFIT FROM BEING THE FIRST ESTABLISHMENT TO WELCOME MEMBERS OF THE IMPERIUM OF MAN- AND PERHAPS OUR FRIEND WILL BENEFIT THE MOST FROM IT?" He conspicuously winked down at the Elcor.

Said creature's eyes crinkled up, and it slowly began lumbering to its right, towards where he had been heading before being distracted by the party. "Amusement: Hahaha, a raise would be nice indeed. Follow me, then. Hopefully: My boss will ignore my lateness in this case."

Gaius moved to walk beside the Elcor, peering back at his human companions. At a cue, he spoke. "We apologize, friend. We did not mean to make you late."

The grey alien seemed unmoved, although its head drooped slightly. "Bashfully: I was actually late before you showed up. I overslept." Gaius laughed loudly, patting the Elcor's shoulder with an enormous gauntleted hand. The hardy alien stumbled slightly at the goodhearted gesture, staring the the Space Marine curiously in return.

"Embarrassment: Oh, excuse me, I did not introduce myself. I am Xerhottod. Curiously: Are you three ambassadors?"

Primarch Jon responded from behind the duo, walking beside the Emperor. "Ambassadors? No, we are the Emperor of Mankind, and his guards. We had never felt the need for ambassadors, as the Citadel Council is the only civilization we have met so far, that hasn't been part of our own Imperium."

The Elcor's pace hitched, and he turned to Gaius. "Awe: Oh, an Emperor. Barely-contained Horror: I apologize for my un-"

Gaius interrupted the Elcor with a loud laugh, shaking his head mirthfully. "No, no, friend. I am not worthy of such a title." He turned around, prodding Xerhottod to do likewise as he presented the Emperor with an outstretched arm.

Jon snorted in amusement as the grey alien bowed on his large forelegs. The Emperor sighed, stepping forward and pushing the Elcor up with a hand as if he was a small pet. "NOW, NOW, FRIEND. THERE'S NO NEED FOR THAT. I AM A FATHER TO ALL OF MY PEOPLE, BUT OTHERS NEEDN'T ACT LIKE MY CHILDREN. TAKE US TO YOUR DEKUUNAN MOON."

Xerhottod hurriedly turned around and began lumbering forward at a faster speed, speaking as he went. "Excitement: Emperor, sir, we've never had royalty in our bar. Squee."

Both humans and Turian shifted uncomfortably.

The Dekuunan Moon was a large bar, although like every such business in the Citadel Wards, there was also a space specifically designated for whatever customers decided they wanted to get down. Almost like the famous, centuries-old Flux in design, it was known for its spacious... everything, as it was built by Elcor for Elcor. From the distance, through a large wall of glass, the group could see many blue women strolling around the establishment, up and down the two gently-sloped ramps on opposite sides of the bar. The Emperor and Jon, from their higher vantage points, could peek at a floor that extended back twice as long as the lower level.

An orange-skinned, reptilian alien- "Krogan," Tiara helpfully identified- waved a stubby arm to Xerhottod as the Elcor lumbered towards the entrance. It stood from its perch on a bench lazily, calling to the alien.

"Hey! 'tod! You're late as hell, you know?" The Krogan chuckled as he walked up to the Elcor.

"Cordially: I gathered a few companions on the way here."

"You overslept again, didn't you? I thought Ashra had gone up and fixed your clock after she got tired of covering for you?" He laughed. "Lazy Elcor! So who did you bring along? If they buy a lot of drinks the boss might forgive you."

The Krogan leaned over the grey alien's side, peering behind him.

He paused, looking at Tiara. His eyes moved up, and he looked at Gaius. He kept looking up, meeting Jon's curious face, and even further, where he focused on the Emperor's enormous, shiny, displayed teeth with eyes as wide as a Krogan could manage..

"Glee: I found royalty." The Elcor's eyes crinkled up happily. The bouncer, in return, gurgled intelligibly.


	3. Diplomacy

Councillor Tavos had always been the example of unspoken confidence in the eye of the public. A wise Asari Maiden in her two-hundredth year in the Council, she tended to be the swing vote. Both her Salarian and Turian colleagues usually deferred to her judgment when in doubt- after all, she tended to be the most diplomatically-minded one of the trio.

At the moment, however, not even a modicum of her serene personality could be seen as she led the trifecta of the Citadel Council down a hallway and out onto the platform they used to pass judgement unto the galactic community.

No one stood opposite to them.

There was silence as the frazzled Council shared looks. Tavos' right eyebrow twitched, and the Salarian- Delamei, a cunning general before taking up Political responsibility- hurriedly reached for his omni-tool and summoned a C-Sec member.

Within moments an Asari was sprinting towards the overhanging alcove in front of them.

"Captain Afthea. We'd like an explanation. We were told the Humans had arrived three hours ahead of schedule. It has been barely fifteen minutes since then, and yet I see no Humans among us," Rusea, the stern grey Turian representative, rumbled out.

Afthea quailed slightly under his glare, before reporting. "Sirs, ma'am, the Human envoys arrived at the Presidium within mere minutes of landing at the docks, accompanied by Sergeant Vakarian."

"I had thought the Batarian Ambassador had been sent as a greeting party," Delamei mulled loudly, interrupting the Asari. "Why were the Humans found with a military officer when a politician was sent for them?"

Afthea shifted nervously. "Ambassador Koreskh committed suicide for unknown reasons shortly before the Humans arrived onto the docks. Vakarian offered to escort them in his stead."

"This is a great loss to the Citadel. Koreskh will be remembered," Tavos proclaimed. The Asari C-Sec member waited for a beat, before continuing.

"Upon arriving in the Presidium, teams noted that the Humans seemed appreciative of the area, before attempting to gain entrance into the Tower." She grimaced at the looks she received.

"Attempted," Rusea spoke up. "Elaborate, [i]Captain,[/i]" he ordered, and the Asari recognized the threat in his emphasis of her rank.

"Reaching the elevator, the four- Vakarian and three Humans- were accosted by the standing elevator guard." She paused, clearly looking extremely nervous.

"Commander Serleer, yes. Continue," Tavos gently prodded, but Delamei cut in.

"Accosted? Curious wording, Captain. I take it to mean he tried to impede their progress?" The Salarian Councilor crossed his arms as the Asari didn't respond. "Well?"

"Serleer drove the Humans off," Afthea mumbled quickly. She immediately flinched from the plain shock on the trio's faces. Councilor Rusea's unexpected reaction worried her much more than the surprise evident in Tavos and Delamei's faces.

The old Turian recoiled along with his colleagues at the news, but seemed to have a mild panic attack alongside that. Delamei and Tavos had regained their composure and he still stood with wide eyes and furiously-slapping mandibles.

"Rusea," Delamei probed, watching the Turian progress through stages of horror. "Huros!" He attempted the Councilor's first name. That seemed to do the trick, as Rusea braced himself and covered his face with his hands. A moment later, he uncovered his visage and growled at the Asari officer.

"Why was the Commander allowed to do this? How was he allowed to conjure up that he had the authority to keep a diplomatic envoy from entering a preordained meeting place? How did he ever get into C-Sec without knowing what entails a [i]political disaster?[/i]" The Turian twitched. "I'm sure it all came out well, as the Citadel is not a blazing husk around us as we speak. Explain this happy ending to us," he prompted sharply.

Afthea looked down at her hands. "The Commander has already been taken into custody for almost causing a diplomatic incident, and is in a holding cell as we speak. Although our teams are not privy to what was said, they reported that for a moment the Humans seemed extremely hostile, although thankfully there was no violence."

"What of the Humans? Where are they now?" Tavos spoke up before Rusea could lash out at the C-Sec Captain once more. The Turian glared, but a harsh look of her own subdued him.

"Commander Serleer informed us that he told them to wait in the Presidium Embassy plazas until it was time for their conference."

"Then we'll meet them there; they should be waiting, and there's no need to make matters worse than they are right now," Rusea quickly decided. Tavos and Delamei peered at him quizzically, before nodding in agreement.

"Well, sir, there's-"

"No time," Rusea interrupted, typing into his omni-tool. "Get your company together; us going to them will hopefully be seen as a gesture of goodwill, and so they might overlook your officer's actions."

With that, he led the two councilors back into their meeting chambers. Afthea was left standing with her mouth open.

"Crotchety politicians," she groaned, before contacting her team.

-_i_-

Seeing a Council member outside of interviews and videos was a rare thing, but they were real and did have lives outside of making decisions on the looming Council Tower. They were always tailed by enthusiastic bodyguards of the highest caliber- Asari Commandos, crack SGT snipers in the distance, and when possible even Turian Biotics.

One thing that did not happen was all three being seen in public at the same time, without a veritable army surrounding them. One could say that when they noticed a squad of C-Sec officers stream out of the Tower-bound elevator in the Presidium, followed by the Council itself, there was already an army lying in wait to protect them.

The Presidium, besides being something of a training course for rookie C-Sec members, was also where the best and brightest went, as it was the place that needed protection the most in the case of an attack in the Citadel. Those best and brightest were all notified of the presence of the Council, and thus were all ready to protect them with their lives as soon as they left that elevator. Hence, an army surrounding the Councilors.

However, sometimes an army is not quite enough; that was why they had brought Blasto.

Blasto was legendary among the Spectres- the third Hanar agent among them in the history of the Citadel, and by all accounts the most powerful and skilled among all races. His pink, tentacled figure had been a constant in the Councilors' lives for several centuries, as he was employed to be their end-all solution to any problem. With greater Biotics than several combined Matriarchs, he could be the best bodyguard in the galaxy or a one-Hanar demolition crew.

As he serenely floated behind the trio of regal aliens, the congregated forces took a moment to stare, before Tavos turned to a nearby officer.

"Where are the Humans?" The young-looking Turian seemed as if he was going to faint, but bravely held on to stutter out a response.

"Well, ma'am..." he paused, mandibles loudly rattling inside his helmet. "Captain Afthea informed us that she had been trying to tell you that the Human diplomats left, before you came here."

Tavos stared at him in silence. The Turian, visibly unnerved, shifted from foot to foot. She seemed almost expectant.

"This one believes Councilor Tavos would like to know where the Human envoys and Sergeant Vakarian have gone," Blasto's synthesized, translated comment rang from behind the Council.

"Uh, uh," was all the Turian officer could respond with. Almost as if on a cue, a nearby Salarian's comms burst into life.

"Attention all units, attention all units, we need backup on Ward 12. Those damn Krogan are at it again! We've got an all-out riot going on in Ward 12! Repeat, we need backup!" The Salarian blinked his large eyes slowly as he became the center of attention, before rushing to turn his comms off.

A nearby Batarian officer shouldered past a few of his peers, grabbing the Salarian's arm before it could shut down the comm. His upper eyes blinked rapidly in thought as the distress call continued to blare. "Wait. Ward 12 is where Sergeant Vakarian lives. I've seen him there on some patrols. He is escorting the humans through the Wards, so they might have decided to go there."

Delamei closed his eyes in thought, bringing a hand to his chin. "Mm... perhaps. Good thinking, officer. We have a lead. Captain!" His eyes shifted to a purple Asari nearby. She straightened under his attention. "Tell C-Sec within Ward 12 to look out for the Human diplomats."

"Yes, Councilor." She placed an open hand at her ear, tilting her head to the side. Her eyes turned skywards as she communicated with the Ward 12 command.

"This is Captain Wara, and I'm coming in on the Council's-" she paused, frowning. "What? No!" Her face took on a scandalized expression after listening for a second. "Don't do anything," she ordered, focusing back on the Councilors. Before she could get her hand off the communicator in her ear, however, something else came through. "I said, [i]don't do anything![/i] These are orders coming directly from the Council itself." She shook her head, gathering her thoughts for a second before looking at the Council.

Tavos quirked a brow. "What are the orders we just gave?"

The Asari Captain blushed an even darker purple. "Ma'am, the Commander of the regiment in Ward 12 was asking for permission to take action against a group of unknowns they found. She described them as hulking, heavily-armored and armed aliens. They aren't doing anything, but she wants to neutralize the possible threats before they become reality."

"Hulking... heavily-armored and armed aliens," Rusea said slowly.

Tavos palmed her face, throwing away her serene facade. "Goddess... Those are the diplomats!"

-_i_-

In Garumat Ward, one would be surprised to find a handful of Krogan-operated, bona fide businesses that didn't deal with security and such. For what reason, no one really knew, but Ward 12 was a center of sorts for the Krogan community in the Citadel, which made it more unique; Elcor were still its main inhabitants, but Krogan made up the second-greatest demographic in it. The largest of the Krogan-staffed establishments, Tuchanka Crossing, was a large bar and lounge oriented for the warrior race.

It was quite unlucky that it just happened to sit right beside the Dekuunan Moon, which was the largest club in the Ward. Worse, however, was the fact that its owner- an Asari, curiously enough, although it made sense in the context of Ward 12, of which Asari made up one of the biggest demographics- happened to be the sister of the neighboring club's owner. And they hated each other.

Krogan were angry things. Elcor, not so much. As such, there wouldn't be very much conflict between the clientèle in a normal situation. However, both Asari owners, aged maiden sisters fathered by a Krogan veteran of the Rachni Wars, hated each other with an undying passion. Unlike doing what the normal Asari of their kind would do- namely, beating the shit out of each other- they rather preferred to stage skirmishes between their staffs.

No one could really ascertain why they hadn't been arrested or why they still had employees, since these small battles would often spiral out of control due to, for example, a passerby Elcor being brought into it. This would often rile up the Asari, which would bring Krogan Biotics into the fold.

It had happened often enough that C-Sec had a dozen contingency plans for taking down both bars' populations during these events, but every now and then it got much worse as someone brought out a gun. In such cases, they'd call for additional support and some peacekeeping forces.

This time, their backup came a lot more quickly than usual, possibly because of their frantic cries of their superiors of "oh goddess what are those things in the back of the bar," amongst others, that were being sent out to all that would listen.

Spotters had noted a small Turian and a few Asari sitting beside the three things, heavily-armored figures seemingly ignoring the chaos around them, but there were still dozens of weapons aiming towards the two clubs. The brawl had slowed down considerably once a few had noticed the openly hostile C-Sec squads standing by, but only when the backup arrived did it stop completely.

Lieutenant Aorai openly gaped at the small army streaming down the passageway towards her group, until an obvious authority figure stepped out of the mass of officers.

"I am Major Jurie," the Salarian stated, peering down at her and her squad. "Your backup has arrived." As he said this, he had a curious look on his face, as if it was all a big joke.

"Is this all for the three things sitting at the back of the bar?" She asked, curious. The taller alien shook his head.

"No, no, it isn't. What have they done so far?"

The Asari pondered over the question for a moment, before blinking. "The unknowns? Well, they've been sitting there drinking throughout the brawl, from what we've seen. No one's bothered them, probably because they're in the back of the bar. I'm... pretty sure they've been ordering food too." She looked back, before waving a Turian over.

He, a sergeant that had been in her unit for almost a decade, strolled over. He saluted, before looking at her questioningly. "Ma'am?"

"What can you tell me about the three armored unknowns in the back?" Her subordinate stared at her for a moment, before pointing past the tall glass windows that stared into the Dekuunan Moon.

Beyond a Krogan carefully picking an Asari up from a smashed table, the three enormous figures (and the small Turian companion they'd gotten) cheerfully picked at some food served by a perky green Salarian. From the distance, they could barely see what exactly was happening, so they looked back at him.

"Well, they've been sitting there throughout. One of the clients we picked up said they arrived just a few minutes before the fight began, and went unmolested throughout. It also looks like they picked up a bunch of dancers and food." He reported, a queer look on his face.

"They're getting served?" Jurie blinked. "Dancers?"

The Turian shrugged. "I don't really understand it. The Salarian's been walking back and forth with food. There's a few Asari at the table; a minute ago they were trying to settle on their laps, but apparently the three unknowns refused. So now they're sitting around the table, talking to them and waiting for the waiter to bring them their own orders."

Jurie mulled over these facts for a second, trying to wrap his mind around the happenings, before shrugging it off. It was far above his pay-grade to worry about such things. He turned away to radio in his report. "All clear, Spectre. The envoys are perfectly unharmed. In fact, there's even a waiter tending to them in a clean table in the back." A pause. "Vakarian also seems to be with them." He listened for a moment, seeming to think about something. "Thank you, sir. I feel I also need to note there's a few unknowns sitting with them. Asari, sir. No, they don't seem to be a threat. Thank you."

Aorai peered up at him. "Who was that?"

The Salarian shook his head. "You'll see soon, Lieutenant. Get your troops to the sides of the bar. There's a Spectre coming down, and I want a clear path between the door and that table in the back." He stared down the Asari. She hastily saluted, and turned to give out her orders.

Minutes later, the Salarian received another call, and walked to the Dekuunan Moon's entrance. Once there, he straightened up and faced the mass of troops standing in the passageway. They stood at ready on each wall, the path between them unbroken up to a pink figure in the distance.

Blasto led the Council down the aisle, bobbing silently in the air as members of C-Sec stared at the four in amazement. He paused as he reached Jurie, turning slightly towards the Salarian.

"This one commends the Major's efforts in cleaning up the location. However, this one would note that the rioting contingent has not been fully ejected from the premises. Please work on that as this one escorts his leaders to the diplomats."

The Hanar drifted off, its regal form almost a match for the three politicians following him. Jurie stood at attention so hard he could feel something pop in his lower back cartilage. "Yes, sir. Councilors." He nodded stiffly as they all passed him. He glared at a Turian in front of him as they finally entered the bar, and furiously gestured after them with his head.

Officers streamed in after the Council, rushing to pick up cuffed lawbreakers. As expected, there was absolutely no outcry from the previously-rowdy customers. The psychological effect of having the leaders of the entire galaxy enter the bar and glare at them effectively broke their collective will.

As they neared, the small (comparatively) human seemed to continue to speak, his helmet still on despite the larger ones' eating. Two Asari, each sitting at one of his sides, giggled, egging him on. The human in red silently picked at a large plate of Varren neck, but looked up sharply as Blasto floated within hearing distance.

Beside him, looking like a toy between the Primarch and the Emperor, sat the C-Sec escort. He timidly held a glass of Turian wine, as if he had been forced to pick it up and drink from it. The sudden motion of the human to his left garnered a flinch from him, and he looked up as well.

Spotting the trio of influential aliens, he screamed and threw himself under the table. That drew the other humans' attention, and there was silence as the Turian scrambled forward under it. Upon reaching the other side- ramming a grumbling Asari's seat- he stood up, saluting.

"Councilors!" He almost shouted. At the table, the Emperor grinned, standing as well. The Primarch beside him seemed bemused as the table, and his food, were pushed away by the motion. He stood as well, along with the smallest human. The several Asari sitting at the table were completely overshadowed by the standing men, so they had to stand as well to see anything.

"Officer," Councilor Rusea responded stiffly, glaring at his fellow Turian. His expression lightened, mandibles opening invitingly, as he looked up at the humans. "Human diplomats. Welcome to the Citadel."

"THANK YOU, COUNCILOR. I AM SORRY, BUT I HAD BELIEVED IT WAS NOT YET TIME FOR OUR MEETING. PERHAPS SOMETHING WAS LOST IN THE TRANSLATION- WE WERE TOLD WE HAD ALMOST THREE HOURS, AND ASSUMED IT WAS QUITE A LONG TIME."

The Council was visibly taken aback by the volume of the Emperor's voice, but Tavos took up communication swiftly, stepping up beside Blasto. She smiled cordially. "I am Councilor Tavos. No, you were not late in any way. We were informed that you had arrived ahead of time, and decided it would do well to provide a welcoming party."

"AH, YOUR EFFORTS WILL BE NOTED, ALTHOUGH THEY WERE NOT COMPLETELY SUCCESSFUL." This drew forced smiles from the Councilors. "BUT WE ARE PAST THAT. PLEASE, TAKE A SEAT." An enormous arm swept over the table, waving at three seats opposite to himself. They all happened to be taken by Asari. "I APOLOGIZE, FRIENDS, BUT I WILL HAVE TO ASK FOR YOU TO LEAVE. THERE IS IMPORTANT DIPLOMACY TO DO."

On the Asari stood, grinning up at him. "Aight big daddy, if that's what you say. Next time you're in Ward 12, hit us up, kay? Unless you're doing politic stuff." She winked, hugging his leg, before squeezing past the red-armored Primarch. The two blue-skinned women beside the smallest human hugged him as well, giving similar goodbyes.

They all sauntered away, waving back enthusiastically. The Councilors eyed them curiously as they walked off, before following the human's suggestion and taking their own seats.

"Thank you, Human." The Salarian nodded politely.

"OH, IT IS NO PROBLEM. WE TOOK THIS TABLE IN HOPES THAT WE WOULD HAVE SOME COMPANY EVENTUALLY; NONE OF YOUR CALIBER, WE THOUGHT, BUT IT WORKED OUT IN THE END." He took his seat, the booth beneath him groaning in protest as several tons of weight were placed on it. The Primarch and Space Marine joining him garnered smaller screams from the piece of furniture, but it managed to hold up

Tiara moved off to the side, watching the proceedings silently. He seemed decidedly uncomfortable, more so as Blasto took up a position beside him. However, he could not hold back his curiosity.

"Are you Blasto?" He questioned silently. The Hanar bobbed in the air.

"This one is the Spectre often called Blasto, yes." Ignoring Tiara's awestruck expression, he continued. "Please focus on the Council and Diplomats. This one is not important right now."

"COUNCILOR," the Emperor began as Tiara looked back; introductions has already been done. "SHOULD WE GET DOWN TO BUSINESS?"

Tavos, whom he had been addressing, nodded. "Yes."

A short silence descended over the table.

"Maybe you should order something first," Primarch Jon suggested.

"... ah, yes, of course," Rusea mumbled. The Salarian waiter rushed to the table at the Emperor's wave.

No one spoke after the waiter left, then came back with their food. The Councilors did not touch theirs, even while Jon calmly picked at his Varren. The Emperor idly chewed on a large fruit native to Thessia.

Rusea was the one to break the awkward silence. "I hear your kind takes food very seriously."

The Emperor mulled over the statement. "YES, INDEED. FOR THE PAST CENTURIES, MANKIND HAS LARGELY FOCUSED ON AGRICULTURAL GROWTH TO SUSTAIN OURSELVES. AS SUCH, THAT SECTOR OF OUR SOCIETY HAS GROWN EXPONENTIALLY AND YES, WE HAVE GROWN TO TAKE FOOD VERY SERIOUSLY."

Tavos latched onto the prospect of human growth. "Why does humanity require a large sect of agriculture?"

"WITHOUT ALL THAT FOOD, OUR POPULATION IS UNSUSTAINABLE. HOWEVER, NOWADAYS WE HAVE REACHED THE POINT WE HAVE A FOOD SURPLUS." He leaned back into his seat, grinning proudly.

"And what would be your population?" Tavos inquired.

He thought for a moment. "HUMAN POPULATION THROUGHOUT THE GALAXY IS SEVEN TRILLION, TWO-HUNDRED AND NINE BILLION, SEVENTY-EIGHT MILLION, TEN-THOUSAND EIGHTY-NINE THOUSAND, NINETY-THREE." Councilor Delamei choked on the food he'd just started eating.

The Emperor frowned slightly. "WAIT, EXCUSE ME. NINETY-FOUR." He paused, before smiling slightly. "IT'S A BOY."

As the Councilors stared, Gaius pumped his fist. "A toast to the Imperium of Man's newest son!" Jon raised his cask of wine.

"AH, BUT THERE HAVE BEEN SO MANY MORE BORN SINCE THEN." The Emperor brought up his keg of Batarian ale, regardless.

"We will need more drinks, then," Jon commented, before throwing his head back and chugging from his cask.

"Waiter! Bring us more," Gaius called the nearby green Salarian. "Councilors, please."

Quietly, the three uncomfortably brought up their goblets in a toast, before drinking.

On the side, Tiara stared at the humans. "They certainly do drink a lot," he whispered.

Blasto made his own comment. "This one believes the Human leader has imbibed the equivalent of Councilor Tavos' body volume in alcoholic beverage."

The silence between the two mimicked the one at the table as the Turian turned his head towards the Hanar Spectre. Ten seconds passed, with him opening and closing his mouth, before he turned back to the diplomatic meeting.

Rusea seemed intensely interested on something, even if his mandibles shook violently. "What are the Imperium of Man's military capabilities? Given your population..."

"NOT AS GREAT AS THEY COULD BE, I'M AFRAID," the Emperor sighed, setting his keg down. "WE ONLY HAVE TWELVE BATTLESHIPS." The three Council member blinked slowly.

"Twelve battleships. Like the one sitting out beside the Citadel?" Tavos hid her shaking hands under the table, settling them on her lap.

"NOT QUITE LIKE IT, NO. THAT IS THE JEWEL OF OUR FLEET; IT WAS BUILT IN THE NEW JOVIAN SHIPYARDS ONLY FIFTEEN YEARS AGO."

Rusea nodded slowly. "So, these eleven other battleships, are they comparable to this one in capabilities?"

"HARDLY. HOWEVER, I'M AFRAID THAT IS QUITE CONFIDENTIAL MILITARY INFORMATION."

"I understand. We'd like to know more about the size of the Imperium, then. If your agriculture is so vast, then you must have many planets to spread it out over," Delamei deliberated.

"THE IMPERIUM OF MAN ENCOMPASSES FIVE-HUNDRED SYSTEMS AND EIGHT-HUNDRED AND FIVE PLANETS, CURRENTLY."

Rusea leaned forward, mandibles wide. "Over eight-hundred planets? How many mass relays have you come across, then?"

"NOT SO MANY. THE ONE WHERE OUR SCOUTING PARTY FIRST MADE CONTACT WITH THE TURIAN HIERARCHY WAS ONLY THE EIGHTEENTH," the Emperor mused. "PRIMARCH HOTH, INCIDENTALLY, NOTED THAT NEAR THE RELAY WAS A VERY TEMPERATE TERRESTRIAL WORLD; IT WOULD, I BELIEVE, MAKE FOR A WONDERFUL FARMING OUTPOST FOR THE IMPERIUM. PERHAPS WE COULD IRON OUT A DEAL WHERE THE IMPERIUM IS ALLOWED TO USE THAT SYSTEM?"

Tavos mulled over the question for a moment, before speaking up. "Well, that could surely be allowed for, as long as we can put together an agreement between our two parties." The Emperor nodded, prompting her to continue. "Citadel policy outlaws the opening of new Mass Relays, due to past events where doing so almost tore us apart. As such, the Imperium of Man, under our jurisdiction, would not be allowed to do so."

"UNDER YOUR JURISDICTION?" The Emperor sounded surprised at the phrase. "I DON'T BELIEVE I EVER SPOKE OF SUCH A DEAL."

Rusea backtracked rapidly. "Oh, no, we do not mean it in such a way. Any race that joins the Citadel is subject to our laws; every single one, even Asari, Turian and Salarian. Given enough time, the Imperium of Man will likely even have a representative on the Council itself, should it come under our banner."

"WHAT ARE THE ADVANTAGES OF JOINING THE CITADEL?" He quirked a brow.

"Well, free trade with all of the Citadel races, as well as military aid from our combined fleets should you come under attack, are the main advantages. A citizen of the Citadel is able to move freely between any systems under our combined control, and even though that also makes them subject to our laws, it also offers almost unlimited possibilities for any one being," Tavos offered.

The Emperor placed an elbow on the table, tipping it slightly as he rested his face on a palm. "SO, JOINING THE CITADEL WOULD ALLOW FOR US TO BECOME AN INTRINSICAL PART OF THE GALACTIC STAGE. I TRUST WE'D BE LISTENED TO ON MATTERS REGARDING THE ENTIRE GALAXY?"

Delamei nodded. "Of course. The final say always comes down to us, the Council, but we take into account every one of our races' needs in our decisions."

There was silence for a moment, as the Emperor thought over the prospects he was given. "VERY WELL. HOWEVER, I BELIEVE THERE ARE ADDITIONAL TERMS TO OUR ASSOCIATION TO THE CITADEL THAT COULD BENEFIT BOTH SIDES."

Tavos blinked, then leaned forward curiously. "What would those be?"

"THE IMPERIUM OF MAN HAS HAD AN UNPRECEDENTED BUILD-UP OF OUR AGRICULTURE IN THE PAST CENTURIES. HOWEVER, WE NEVER TOOK INTO ACCOUNT THE POINT WHERE WE WOULD FACE A SURPLUS; AS SUCH, WE'RE NOW MAKING MUCH MORE FOOD THAN WE NEED TO, AND DESPITE MUCH OF OUR POPULATION BEING HAPPY IN ITS ROLES AS FARMERS, IT IS A SHAME TO SEE ALL THIS FOOD GONE TO WASTE. WE WOULD BE HAPPY TO PROVIDE FOR ALL OF THE CITADEL IN TERMS OF FOOD." Three faces displayed surprise, each in their own way, in front of him.

"Turians have a different genetic make-up than any other race in the Citadel, Emperor. I am afraid you won't be able to provide for us," Rusea sighed.

"THEN WE CAN DESIGNATE PLANETS FOR USE IN MAKING FOOD FOR THE TURIAN HIERARCHY. OUR EMPIRE IS NOTHING IF NOT VAST, AND SO WE CAN DO THAT."

"What do you have in mind for us to return to the Imperium of Man? After all, this would free up quite a bit of our workforce," Delamei noted.

"I WOULD LIKE FOR THE IMPERIUM TO BE ALLOWED TO FURTHER EXPLORE THE GALAXY." Blinks.

"All races are allowed to explore the galaxy as they see fit, Emperor. We place no restrictions on that, besides forbidding the opening of... oh." Tavos' eyes widened.

"YES. I WOULD LIKE FOR MY PEOPLE TO BE ALLOWED TO OPEN MASS RELAYS. WE WANT TO FURTHER EXPLORE THE PROTHEANS AND THE DEVELOPMENT OF THIS TECHNOLOGY THEY CREATED." The Council shared looks at his words.

"I'm sorry, but that can't be allowed," Delamei lamented, shaking his head.

"IT MUST. OR HUMANITY WILL NOT JOIN. FOR YOUR SAKES, I CAN AGREE ON RESTRICTIONS ON OUR OPENING OF RELAYS, BUT I FEEL IT IS FOOLISH TO SIMPLY KEEP THEM CLOSED OFF."

Silence, as the Councilors shared meaningful looks. Tavos seemed clearly conflicted, as did Delamei, but Rusea's mandibles suddenly flapped in realization.

"Our first contact consisted of Velarn's small fleet coming across a multitude of ships, one of which was apparently a Battleship?"

Primarch Jon was the one to respond. "Yes, Hoth led that task force. We usually lead our relay-opening efforts with powerful Battleship-led fleets, so as to be able to hold back any sort of hostile force we may find on the other side."

Rusea stood, leaning forward onto the desk. "Then, wouldn't it be possible to allow for Humanity to open more relays, provided they send strong fleets to do so? Should there be any hostile race on the other side, the Citadel will not support the Imperium against them unless they are found to be too much for you to handle, but we wouldn't restrict your use of the mass relays."

The Emperor thought it over. "I COULD AGREE TO THOSE TERMS."

As Rusea backed down and took a seat, Tavos shook her head. "Unlimited use of the Relays is foolish, however. There must be a limit to this." She looked at Delamei.

"Perhaps a relay every ten years could be the Imperium's limit. It would not do well to open a dozen relays and unleash a dozen races upon the galaxy at once." The Councilors all shared a look, and nodded.

"That would be agreeable," Tavos said.

"VERY WELL. ONE EVERY DECADE IS OUR LIMIT. MANKIND AGREES TO THESE TERMS." He stood up, raising his keg. The waiter rushed over, almost toppling over from the weight of the cask of wine he was carrying. Jon took it from him, raising it as he stood beside his leader.

The three Councilors felt compelled to mimic their actions, raising their own goblets.

"TO CONTINUING RELATIONS BETWEEN THE IMPERIUM OF MAN AND THE CITADEL!"


	4. John

**Come closer. Chapter 4 is starting, kids.**

"_The Imperium of Man: Working towards a better future for the entire galaxy." A solemn tune started up behind the motto as clouds and a rocky landscape came into being from a simple black background. Red skies lit up by a harsh yellow star glared down at the brown, tilled soil of a small farm._

_"It's been a few months since the last rainfall," a cartoon Turian mulled as he hefted his hoe. A hat, of human make, sat atop his head unrealistically. "For that I'm thankful; rain here is very acidic. My crops would melt. But..." He looked to the side, at the mass of green that was his field. "It will probably rain at nighttime. If only I had something to protect my farm..." The farmer sighed sullenly, beginning to walk towards a large building nearby. "I'll have to harvest today. I'm not happy about that, since most of the crops aren't ready yet, but it's best to get what I can before it all goes away with the rain."_

_"The Turian Hierarchy does not fund its farmers. They are like any businessmen in the galaxy: reliant only upon themselves for money." The narrator informed, a deep male voice that covered up the Turian's steps. "The Asari Republics don't, either. In fact, no race in the Citadel actively draws interest to their agricultural sector." The farmer desolately walked into his barn, taking the time to push its wide doors open._

_"It's hard work," the Turian noted, his voice dampened by the structure around him. "Once I sell this season's crops I'll probably gather my daughters and wife and move to the Capital. It couldn't possibly be worse than this."_

_"Without its races contributing to maintaining a large agricultural base, and with ever-greater opportunities springing up all around them, the Citadel's farmers increasingly leave their posts for something more profitable. Anything more profitable. The food output in the galaxy has been going down for almost two-hundred Standard Galactic Years. But... recently, a beacon has come into sight for the citizens of our galactic community. Whereas hunger was an inevitability for low-income workers in the past decades, especially amongst farmers who had to choose between feeding their families and minimal profit..."_

_An engine sputtered and died within the barn, and its owner groaned in despair. The Turian's tractor refused to start. "Damn it all, if I don't get it working within the hour I might not be able to get everything in time."_

_"In the last twenty years, a light has come to be at the end of the tunnel, for the entire galaxy." The solemn music that had been skulking under every sound started to crescendo, gaining momentum._

_A scream from the barn. "Who are you?" The farmer's panic was palpable, and he stumbled, backwards, out of the structure. He fell on his bottom, staring up in fear. The engine's sputtered once more, but this time the sound was followed by a loud sigh._

_"Your engine is burnt-out, Turian Friend." The barn shook with the statement. The owner of the powerful voice strolled out, an enormous armored form that seemed to shine with glory. As he bent slightly to get past the door, his arm was extended backwards. "Please, move."_

_The Turian did so, and the figure straightened. Behind him he dragged the aged, recalcitrant tractor. As he stood, the music finished morphing. The narrator continued, voice barely lilting over the triumphant orchestral music._

_"The Emperor of Mankind leads the Imperium with benevolence unmatched by any leader in the galaxy. Understanding the problems faced by farmers, and the logistics required to feed the galactic population, he pushes Humanity fully towards agriculture. The Imperium of Man funds its farmers wholeheartedly, and, likewise, it does to other species." His voice rang with obvious pride._

_"I am the Emperor, young one. No need to fear. I have come to help you." One arm extended towards the Turian, who took hold one an outstretched finger to stand up._

_"You... the Emperor of Humans?" The comparatively tiny alien's mouth was wide with awe. His mandibles, however, were glued to his cheeks, likely an oversight in the animation._

_"Indeed." He smiled brightly. "Indeed I am." He turned to the tractor, and frowned down at it. "You haven't repaired it in some time. This tractor is barely holding together; the engine doesn't work and it wouldn't move even if it did."_

_"I haven't had the time or money to repair it, no." The farmer timidly walked up beside the leader of humanity, and looked at the farming equipment._

_The Emperor shook his head sadly, his golden armor seeming to lose some of its sheen. "That will not do. You have a family to feed, yes?"_

_"Yes, sir. A wife and two daughters."_

_"Yes, it will not do at all. You have to feed your children, and have to feed your people. As it is, you are alone in your job. The planetary government doesn't help you keep aloft even though you provide for them."_

_The Turian looked down. "No, they don't."_

_"Well, we will." The farmer stared up at the Emperor. "The Imperium of Man is here for you, noble farmer. We understand that people need to be fed."_

_The sound of air being displaced burst over the music, and the Turian looked around in confusion, before a large harvester plopped down beside his barn without another sound. It shone with fresh paint. The farmer stared at it silently, his mandibles finally moving to show his surprise appropriately._

_The sound of more things falling echoed over the farm, and he turned around. An enormous structure now stood around his crops, covering them up from the rainfall that would come down at night. It was tall enough that the harvester would fit into it, and was larger than the area he was using to grow food._

_"Take this. The Imperium of Man is here for you, as well as all beings in the galaxy. You will be able to expand safely and harvest efficiently now." The solemn music started crescendoing. "It is impossible to build society on empty stomachs and misery. You are only one of many. We support you, even when your own will not." He looked around inconspicuously, before handing the Turian a wad of cash._

_The image darkened, the two cartoon figures and the environment around them fading into black._

_"The Imperium of Man is here for you all." The narrator, and the tune quieted into the familiar solemn rhythm and volume from the beginning. "Whether Asari, Salarian, Turian or Batarian, Humanity is ready to help feed the populace. It is true. We can't build a thriving galactic society on empty stomachs and misery. So we support those that can keep us, as a pan-galactic civilization, aloft. But we are also faced with nonbelievers at every turn, and so we need your support, too." The music stopped entirely. "Since the beginning of relations, our attempts to attain an embassy in the Citadel have been repealed. Many don't share our views concerning the feeding of all beings, but we are determined to show them how successful they are. Our embassy will help them understand how well our methods work; so support us in gaining one. Show everyone how successful we can be. Help us get our embassy, so the galaxy can follow in our stead. So no being will ever go hungry again."_

_"Thank you. From the Imperium of Man. Help us help the galaxy towards a brighter future."_

John turned away from the public announcement with a groan. He had been lying in bed with his daughter and wife, watching television, when this had come on. Something like it came on every few hours, and he had grown tired of it. He deigned to wait for his daughter's show to come back on, resting against the pillow.

Of course, she was the one to disturb him. "Daddy, is it all true?" The young voice that rang out from atop his chest was accompanied by a stirring as she turned around to face him.

"What is, dear?" He raised his head from his pillow to stare at her. Little Ana's bright green eyes peered at him squintingly in the low light of their quarters.

"All the Xenos are bad at getting food so we're giving them food so we're making them give us an embassy for food?" His wife, lying beside them, blinked.

"Where did you learn to say that, Ana?"

The little girl slowly looked to her mother, as if she'd been caught with her hand in a cookie jar. "Err."

Quickly, the woman's eyes moved to the father, and her hand reached around to slap him on the ear. "Don't teach our daughter things like that, John."

The father rubbed his ear with a sigh. "I'm sorry, dear."

"Hmph." She turned away.

"Well, daddy? Is the cartoon true?" John looked from the back of his spouse's head to his daughter.

"Well, partly. We, the Imperium, make a lot of food, so we know how to do it really well. Since we really need that food..." he began lecturing, when Ana groaned.

"Daddy! I know all that. Do the other races really not give money to farmers to make them food?"

"Well, no. That's why we make so much food for them. Otherwise their food would stay really expensive. With us around it's much easier to get the food to everyone who needs it, at a much smaller cost. That's the point of the Agricultural Superfreighters," he pointed out with a wan smile.

"And the point of our jobs," his wife noted from the side, turning back to them.

Ana's eyes were wide. "So we're bringing food to aliens? We're not taking it to a human colony?"

"That's right. Not a lot of Superfreighters have xen-" his wife eyed him reproachfully. "-aliens in the crew, and no human colony-bound Superfreighters carrying food have them at all. Those are all manned by Astartes."

"Holy Astartes, manning a farming ship?" His daughter seemed to doubt that.

"Well, Ana, you've grown up learning how important food is. Astartes know that it's a big part of what lets us live like we do, so keeping it safe on the way to our planets is one of their most important tasks." The little girl still looked doubtful, but nodded in defeat. "Looks like your cartoon's back," he noted finally.

The little girl grinned, before turning back to watch the show on the holoscreen.

Moments later, alarms rang through the entire ship.

The Imperium of Man had been part of the galactic community for over 30 Terran Years, and the only conflict they'd been part of in that time was a small skirmish between a Frigate and a pirate-commandeered freighter. Hence, much about Imperial military capabilities was still unknown to the galaxy at large. The only thing that had managed to slip was that their Frigates could vaporize pirate ships with ease. As no race had yet to feel the need to bite the hand that fed them, and as most lawless bands who had enough guts to go out after non-privately-owned ships didn't have much more than small, easily-vaporized-by-Imperial-Frigate freighters, the Imperium had as of yet been untouched by the strife that touched onto every other race in the Citadel.

Sadly, all things eventually come to an end. This period of peace came to its own abruptly, but John was ready for it.

He sat up quickly, clutching his daughter to his chest as he stood. He let her down, the girl covering her ears as the blaring of alarms all around the ship continued, and nodded at his wife. Catherine left her position in the bed and took the small girl.

"Hide until I come back!" The father could barely be heard over the alarms, but was understood nonetheless. His wife opened a door on the far side of the room and handed him appropriate clothing. He threw an armored coat over his shirt as his daughter was herded into the closet. His work pants would do, so he threw that part of his outfit aside as Catherine entered behind Ana.

"Not a sound, Ana!" He heard his wife one more time as he turned towards the door and put on his boots. John had been a Guardsman before his wife's mother had been born, so he among many others in the ship were tasked with defending it in the case of an emergency, even though there was a squad of actual Guardsmen garrisoning the ship.

He was barely out of the door when he saw one of the sources of the ship's distress. A broad figure clad in armor that covered its entire body sans the head stood in the intersection of the hall where John's quarters were located, and the main hallway that ran through the entire section of the ship. It held a large handgun at ready, and its back happened to be facing him.

The old former soldier took advantage of the positioning and the blaring alarms to rush his unsuspecting enemy. He knew it was definitely an enemy because it was obviously not a Guardsman- getting to a conclusion on whether you were facing a friend or foe was much easier when human and alien became synonyms for the two.

He grabbed the front of the Xenos' face, braced himself against the back of its armor as it sputtered in surprise and pain, and wrenched his arm back in a practiced motion. The humanoid creature, whose skeleton closely mimicked a human's, went rigid before falling into him.

John stepped back with a grimace and let it go down to the floor, vowing to stay away from his wife until he'd gotten on new clothes. However, he reached down and grabbed the alien's handgun.

It was a mass accelerator, which was the standard type of weaponry throughout the galaxy. He'd used some on occasion, and wasn't pleased at their capabilities compared to that of a lasgun, but this one would do until he got to the barracks.

The old former Guardsman turned back to his quarters, and gave his closed door a last look before stalking down the hall towards his comrades.

A small part of him thanked the stupid Xenos for going after his ship- after fighting Tyranids and Orks, the centuries of peace had begun to bother him. Although he was very old, even by Imperial standards, he still longed for battle every day, and now he was getting his chance to return to his roots.

The alarms stopped abruptly, and the only after that was that of his footsteps in the expansive, dark halls. A ship with three-thousand crew wasn't supposed to be that damn quiet, so he only sped up towards the barracks. Different alarms came into hearing as he neared them, however, and he slowed down as he recognized them.

The way to the next section of the ship was closed off, a vacuum-sealed slab of steel that served as a door keeping him from passing. He grunted, turning around and trying for the next hallway over. Another door kept him from getting through. He shouted in annoyance, walking up to it and kicking it.

The echoing clang of his boot meeting the door was the only sound in the hallway, as the alarms halted at the impact. John held up the handgun, before recognizing the cause of the silence.

"Please do not attempt to enter the barracks area. Oxygen content within sealed area 0%. Every way into barracks is sealed, please do not attempt to open them. Doing so will expose the ship to hard vacuum."

The message was repeated twice, before the alarms returned.

"Hard... vacuum?" John mused over the revelation for a moment, before his expression descended into rage. "Those fucking Xenos!" He shouted, kicking the door again. The automated systems broadcasted the message three more times, but he didn't give it notice.

They had killed his men. As a Commissariat trainer in Terra at the time of the Emperor's Awakening, he had some pull in the new Imperium. Enough that he had been allowed to pick a few of his old comrades for the Guard's garrison in the superfreighter he worked on. All of whom had their quarters within the barracks. John's quarters were not, which was why he hadn't been with them during the attack. He generally stayed in his wife's room with her and their daughter. However, even though he stayed with his family, his equipment stayed where it was supposed to, and so he was left with the coat he'd donned, and the handgun he'd grabbed from an alien.

He'd had many men die under his command, but _these_ men had been at his side for many decades. They would have to be avenged. Whether or not he could reach his weapons, he would kill the Xenos responsible for this.

With that resolution in mind, John turned back towards his quarters. He would check on his wife and daughter, then go to the bridge to ascertain the severity of the situation.

-I-

Said bridge was a simple affair, as far as Imperial ships went. Superfreighters, which were refurbished Cruisers, used their enormous open spaces, such as the cavernous, old-time cathedral bridges, to their advantage. This left the crew without a place to pilot it from, however, so a new bridge had to be picked out. Following Salarian and Asari aesthetics, the Imperium had decided to put the new command centers at the bow. There wasn't much space to spare there, comparatively, so this bridge was much smaller than what one would expect of a former capital ship. As it was, the leadership of the aliens raiding the ship looked around the room around them, which had once been an ammo storage area, with slight awe.

"This is what we're taking? Crazy." One shook his head with a chuckle. "This is a better catch than a Dreadnought. Maybe not worth as much in parts, since all their equipment is so primitive, but the crops will do us well for decades." He looked down at a captive member of the crew, and kicked him. "Hey, female, how much do you think we could get for everything in the ship?"

The male human lying with his hands behind his back and a rifle pointed at his face groaned, head lolling about as he tried to form words. His concussion didn't make him any more forthcoming with information.

"Tch, useless human." The alien turned to his accomplices. "Gotten anything done in terms of getting this damn thing moving?"

The leader of the group sighed. "No, the damn pilot shut down the engines and refuses to wake up. We managed to reset the IFFs and turn on the automated defenses of the ship, so we've been taking out the escorts for the past few minutes."

A shorter alien sat hunched over a terminal, besides the knocked-out human at the head of the bridge. "You know, it's really amazing the scale that these humans use in their ships. The Frigates hanging out there look like Fighters to this ship."

Another pirate stood off to the side of the room. He held a shotgun, pointed towards a handful of the crew huddled against the wall. He turned his head slightly, and looked back at them with a worried expression. "I don't know, guys. Even with the support we have, I don't think it's wise to attack one of these ships."

"Man up, you idiot. They won't do anything. Have you seen their worlds? They're all dumbass, happy farmers," the alien holding a weapon to a barely-conscious human groused.

"Have you seen their male soldiers? They're all twice as big as Krogan," he shot back.

"Quiet, both of you." The leader sighed. "Focus on your jobs. Grakesh, try to get something out of that human."

Grakesh grunted, looking back down at his hostage. "What the hell do we need from them? We have the ship, and the soldiers were taken out."

The leader hung his head, giving up. "He's the captain, you idiot. Ask him how long we have until we should expect reinforcements."

The minion tilted his head, staring down at his human curiously. He kicked him again. "Hey, female. How long do we have until your reinforcements get here?"

A groan from the front of the room, and the pirate holding the crew at gunpoint laughed. "I love your originality, Grakesh."

The alien's eyes narrowed, and he growled at his accomplice. "Shut up, Merk. It's what we need to know."

The human under him mumbled unintelligibly, and received another kick. "Flubbing pheroms," he moaned.

"What?"

"Fu-fuluk-fucking Xenos! Won't say nothing!" The Captain finally managed to say what he wanted to. The butt of a rifle met the side of his head, and he slumped back down.

The pirate leader sighed. "Dammit, you're not supposed to knock them out."

Grakesh shrugged. "What, it's not like we're short on time. The humans and their stupid big ships probably won't respond for a few hours still."

"Fine. Try to nudge him back awake, so we can at least get some sort of timetable. Oh... The pilot seems to be coming to." He paused, peering down at the slowly-moving human beside him. "We'll probably not need the know anything from the Captain anymore, but keep trying anyway." He nudged the pilot. "Female, I want you to take control of the ship and get us to these coordinates."

The human flinched as a datapad was dropped on his head. He sat up, grabbing it from the back of his neck, and looked around shakily. The first thing he caught sight of was a muzzle resting near his face. "What in the Emperor's name is going on?"

"We've taken over the ship. Now use that little datapad in your hands and take us to where it tells you to go."

The human looked down at the data, and frowned. "This isn't a very wise decision, Batarian."

"We'll be the judges of that. Your ships can't catch us, after all, and your crew's been taken down."

"Oh, can't they?" The pilot leaned back, fearlessly looking up at the pirate. He took in four brown eyes set on a stern greenish face. "I'm your only way out of here. If you kill me, the ship won't go anywhere. And there's nothing you can do that will make me help you fly off with an Imperial ship, months of millions of humans' toil, and many more's sustenance." He smirked. "Your move, alien."

The muzzle turned from his face to the crew crowded against a wall. The boom of a piece of metal breaking the sound barrier echoed through the room, followed by that of a body slumping against the wall. "For every ten seconds you refuse to act, another crew member dies. We have many more in the bowels of the ship, so we could go for hours."

A raised eyebrow from the human. "I am over a century old. Killing crew will not make me break. I am loyal to the Imperium above all. Even if you kill us all, three-thousand men and women are a much smaller loss than millions."

"You're saying you won't lose millions?"

"Before you're halfway done with us, there shall be thousands of the Imperium coming for you. I know you've taken out the Fighters escorting us, but commandeering a Superfreighter? There shall be a Battleship here within hours."

The Batarian's eyes narrowed. "Is that so? Although we can't move the ship, do remember we're orbiting the planet you picked up your cargo from. The weapons are still active."

The was silence in the bridge for a moment.

"You would dare attack an Imperial colony just to make off with a ship and cargo?" The human growled, glaring up at him.

"Of course. We're capable." Scowling down at the pilot, the pirate pointed at the controls sitting in front of him. "Take us out of here, or we'll have to start shooting at your precious... farms."

Merk felt the need to speak up, staring down at the corpse his leader had made earlier. "Brokad, I really don't think this is wise."

"So you've said," he responded as the human slowly got to work on getting the freighter moving.

"No, really. The male soldiers... I've seen them. Do we really want to piss them off? We should've picked another ship."

Brokad shook his head. "This _is_ another ship, Merk. Right now, it's the only Superfreighter that's fully stocked which isn't full of their male soldiers."

-I-

John prowled through the ship towards his quarters. His grip on the handgun he held was tight, like his expression. He had periodically checked into rooms throughout the halls he'd passed, and they were all empty. His ship, a Superfreighter filled with three thousand men, was empty as far as he was aware.

He wasn't sure if the crew was being abducted by the invading pirates, or killed by them, but in the end it didn't matter. Slavers, raiders or hijackers, the Imperium would come down on them like a flaming meteor as soon as he managed to regain contact with the Navy, or even before that if the attack had been noticed already.

He didn't readily take into account the hijacking being noticed- he was always ready to go through with plans as if the worst-case scenario was in motion. But it had. As he ducked into a hallway upon noticing a band of pirates leading a crowd of captured crewmembers, the planet beneath them relayed information to the Imperial Navy.

The Superfreighter was behind schedule, moving much more slowly than it should, and its engines were rhythmically throwing out bursts of plasma. It didn't take long to figure out the last, upon careful scrutiny; it was sending a distress call. In a nearby system, a ship started moving from the hub of the Imperium's presence in the area.

All this happened unbeknown to anyone within the ship sans the pilot. John peered around the corner as the Xenos herded his fellow humans around. Two dozen or so of the four-eyed aliens, and there seemed to be a few of the hardy bird-like aliens held captive as well. It seemed not all of the non-humans in the crew were traitorous, but that did nothing to lighten the load on his chest. Whether his beloved Imperium returned to war against the entire galaxy or a section of it, his comrades would be avenged.

This force of pirates, he was sure he could take out. On the other hand, he hadn't yet checked on his family, so he eventually decided to come back for the Xenos later. They wouldn't be moving too quickly with dozens of captives to watch over, but John hastened his pace just in case.

He didn't come across too many bands of pirates, but the small ones he could take out silently, he did. Grudgingly thankful for the relative silence of the mass effect-reliant handgun as opposed to his old bolt pistol, he used it for when he knew he would not be able to close in without being noticed. At other times, it came down to grabbing them and using the close quarters that entailed to shoot between joints in their armor.

On his way to his cabin, he'd passed five Xenos. The first four, he dealt with accordingly; three shot in the back of the head, and one with a crushed head courtesy of a hydraulic door. The last alien, he had just come across. It stood in the hallway just outside his cabin, and seemed to actually be the same one he'd killed at the same spot.

Its armor was stained with green blood running down the front, and its neck seemed double-jointed, even though it appeared to have been hastily bandaged. Apparently John had made too many assumptions regarding the alien's physiology. A broken neck wasn't enough to kill one, even though they didn't seem to be any more durable than humans otherwise.

Regardless, he returned to his modus operandi regarding hostile Xenos as he saw what he had presumed to have been a downed enemy. Unfortunately, the alien turned to look in his direction as he stepped out from a hall and into the one patrolled by it. As he had taken it out from behind, and hadn't been seen, John was worried for a short moment as the alien's eyes widened slightly in recognition, then glee.

"Aha! There's our missing piece," it crowed, reaching behind its back. John aimed and took a shot. It bounced off a blue shield in front of it. "Oh, what a shame. Looks like your gun won't do." A smug expression overtook its face. With half-lidded eyes- all four of them- it stared at him, waiting for his next move.

"Not my gun, filthy Xeno. _Yours,_" he shot back. The Batarian was taken aback for a moment, before looking closely at the weapon wielded by the old soldier.

It hummed in recognition. "That looks like my pistol. So you were the one to do this to me." It gestured at its bizarrely-bent neck.

"Yes." John took advantage of the impromptu conversation to slowly walk closer.

"Shame. You'll have to die. I was going for a full combo, but the boss will gladly take two females instead of three if I pay the difference." That stopped the human in his tracks. He'd taken the 'missing piece' comment to mean that he was a crew member missing from this section. It was not to be. "You seem surprised, human. Did you really think knocking me out would make it safer for your companions?"

"I meant to kill you," he ground out.

"For a soldier, you're pretty incompetent. You assumed I'd die from a broken neck?" The Xeno laughed mockingly.

John rushed it the moment the alien closed its eyes to look up and express its amusement in the situation. Although skilled in moving silently, however, his rage made him sloppy. The Xeno heard him running, and looked down in time to pull a knife from its armor.

The human shot, but even at three paces the barrier still worked against the infuriatingly low-powered kinetic weapon. The Batarian moved forward as well, retaliating with his long, notched blade. John wasn't able to move his hand out of the way, and had the mass accelerator smacked out of his grip.

However, with the alien close, he could make his own move. His other arm swung around as the Xeno pulled his blade back, smashing his enemy in the face with a haymaker. It stumbled, lashing out blindly. The knife hit nothing but air as John ducked under it and used his heavily-augmented arm to strike at the armored midsection of the alien.

His left arm had been torn off by a Tyranid during his campaigning in Ultima Segmentum. It had been the day he had seen his first Carnifex, and had lost half of his unit fighting it. The arm had been retrieved, and replaced with a few additions. The upgrades born of the machinery fitted onto him were helpful, but he was just happy he'd been allowed to stay mostly human. Having a powerklaw like so many Orks he'd fought would have made him quite displeased.

However, like a mechanical arm, it was strong enough to dent most armor, which included that which the Batarian wore. It flew back into the wall, gasping. The knife had fallen from its hands, so John quickly snatched it up and advanced to the alien.

Pinning the Xeno against the wall, he growled at it. "Did you take my wife and child, creature?"

The Batarian, in return, bit him. John slashed its face apart in retaliation, backing away. He rubbed his jaw as he threw down the knife, turning from the drooping corpse to seek out the handgun he'd been forced to drop. He really hoped he wouldn't get some sort of disease from the alien.

He began towards his quarters with the mass accelerator in hand, calling out for his wife from the distance. "Catherine! It's John! Leave Ana and come meet me!"

He needed to make sure they were fine, but he didn't want his daughter to see him, covered in blood; mostly the alien's, but the bite mark on his jaw was seeping quite a bit of his own.

However, no response graced his call. His wife didn't walk out of the cabin in search for him. The door was open, he noticed as he neared, but the closet, thankfully, was not. He entered the quarters, looking around. They were ruined; the bed was overturned, the bathroom door broken down. The closet, upon closer inspection, was not untouched either.

With dawning horror, he stepped closer, and touched it. The door had been leaning against the frame, and his hand had broken the precarious balance it had achieved. It fell inwards, with nothing to break its fall.

He reached in, pulling the door back with rage-backed strength; it clattered against the floor behind him, then into the opposite wall. No one was inside. There was ripped clothing and hangers lying on the floor in a pile, along with the beam that used to hold them up.

He backed away from the closet, still staring into it silently.

The Xenos had taken his daughter and wife. They'd hurt them.

The Imperium would have no say in what would happen to the Batarians when they arrived, he finally decided as he turned away. He'd kill all the damn aliens himself.

The same thoughts ran through his mind. Extermination, murder, vengeance; he was filled with more hate for Xenos than ever before, and that fueled his desire to kill. As he stepped out into the hall, he thought of murder. As he stomped over the corpse he'd made a few minutes before, he vowed to exact vengeance. As he traversed the path back towards the band of pirates he had snuck around, he prepared to exterminate.

A Capital ship such as the one that the Superfreighter had been carved out of, namely an Imperial Cruiser, had truly stupendous numbers of hallways leading to and from thousands of different weapon emplacements, engines, regulators of all sorts, and rooms for the crew to reside in. Tracking down anyone within a ship was a ridiculous prospect unless they were loud enough to be heard a kilometer off while much closer than that, or were really slow and you remembered where they were.

John remembered where the slavers had been, but apparently they'd noticed one of their own was missing or dead. They had hastened towards their destination, which meant they were nowhere near where he expected to be. As he searched around where he had last seen them, they unwittingly became loud enough to be heard a kilometer away, while still in somewhat close proximity.

The old soldier sighted them on one of the large hallways spanning the entire sector of the ship as they started quieting down. They pushed the crowd of humans and Turians they'd kidnapped forward slowly, leaving behind three bodies. He quietly trod over them; one dead Batarian, who didn't wear any armor, and two humans.

It was likely the four-eyed alien hadn't been part of the pirates, and had spoken out against his captors expecting to be treated better because they were of the same race. Sadly for him, that wasn't the case. The two humans had possibly backed up the Xeno. John shook his head sadly. Although the concept of heresy was just a memory at that point of the Imperium's life, such behavior disgusted the aged Commissar.

There were five Batarians at the back of the group, periodically looking back to check for anyone following them. He presumed five more were at the front of the group, and perhaps a few more in the midst of the captured humans. He didn't bother to duck into any halls as he saw the guards at the back, for he could hear another disturbance within the group. There were likely a handful of Xenos within the group itself, making collateral damage an inevitability if he went in guns blazing, but he was a highly-trained Guardsman. He wouldn't miss.

He sped up his gait, until he was outright running. The noise of his feet hitting the ground alerted a pirate, who looked back curiously as he began sprinting towards the slavers.

Before the Batarian could open its mouth to signal for its accomplices, John fired. The pirate, whose kinetic barriers had been left off to preserve power, had nothing protecting its face from the projectile that split the area in the middle of its four eyes. Its half-turned body slumped into the crowd as more of the guards in the back looked away from their captured cargo to investigate.

John fired off three more shots, each taking out one Batarian, until the handgun let off a beeping noise as he pointed at the fifth. Not understanding the deal with the thing besides it not working, he flung it at the last Xeno.

The projectile pistol-whip, surprisingly, worked rather well, and his target slumped down. One of the aliens in the crowd got his mind back on track with a burst of gunfire. It was a shotgun blast, that, while mostly stopped by his armored coat, still pushed the soldier back.

Batarians streamed out of the crowd. A dozen, weapons at ready, against him, who had no weapons, but he had been trained to fight impossible odds every time, and come out on top. Of course, he didn't have very much manpower available to get his way, so skill would have to do. They were merely pirates, after all.

He had momentum, scattered as it had been by the shot he'd taken to the chest, so he made use of it to crash into their midst. An augmented punch smacked a Batarian into the ground like a sack of bricks, and his other hand took hold of the alien's weapon to shoot another in the gut. A kinetic barrier shimmered into sight, and his target shot him in the side.

This time, the armored coat did not hold back the bullets. He stumbled to the side at the direct hit, before reaching around and smashing his fist into the Xeno's armored head. The helmet did nothing to hold back the force of his attack, denting inwards as its owner crumpled up and fell into another pirate.

John picked up the downed alien's shotgun and shot at the distracted Batarian's face. At the distance they were in, kinetic barriers did nothing. As the slaver's head exploded, the old soldier was hit again. The shotgun shell tore right through his coat and normal shoulder, and he lost his balance. He'd only taken three down, and he had been wounded severely, he mourned as he fell to his knees.

His old comrades would've told him he was getting slow in old age, teasingly, despite him always being faster than any of them. Not fast enough, however. The bloody mist that had once been most of his shoulder slowly dispersed, leaving behind a mass of muscles and sinews barely holding up his arm with the held of the coat.

He eyed it woozily, even as a Batarian made his way towards him from the crowd of captured humans. Its frown was obvious, even as John's vision began to blur. "Whatever happened to the proud soldier that just took out four of my men? On your knees? Please, human. Stand up," it growled, nodding at the pirates that surrounded him.

There was a pause when nothing happened. "What the fuck do you want, for us to help him up?" The muffled voice came from behind. "He just killed half of us!"

"And I'll kill the other half if you don't." The Batarian giving orders pulled a large rifle from his back.

John heard the murmurs of discontentment as the minions behind him pulled him to his feet. He absently noted that the leader of sorts was slightly taller than himself.

The four-eyed alien in front of him stepped forward as the human shakily managed to maintain a standing position, putting the muzzle of his rifle up against his chin. He made to speak, before a cry rent the air.

"Daddy!" No, no, no. Ana had screamed out for him. As if it would've helped him survive. From his place, could see the Batarian's eyes widen. All four of them.

"Oh, so we have ourselves a father here. You know, three of the Batarians you just killed were fathers too. And you killed a bunch of others as well, didn't you? Groto, come here with whoever that was."

One of the Xenos came back, holding John's daughter in a death-grip. "Groto here... he's an orphan. He's not necessarily young, but his father worked for me along with him. His father died just today. The cause of his death: A door. Sound familiar to you?"

John didn't answer; he couldn't, as he only had eyes for his daughter. The Xeno holding her was hurting her. "I'm sure it does. Groto's father was a skilled soldier. One of the best Spec Ops that the Hegemony had. It'd have taken someone just as elite to take him down with something so simple. Must've been you. So, Groto here? He can't kill your father. But you separated child from parent. He can do the same."

John saw red, then he felt numbness spreading from the back of his neck. As he fell into darkness, the Commissar felt only hate.

-I-

A chuckle rang through the bridge, breaking a terse silence. All of the pirates within it turned towards the pilot abruptly, bringing their weapons to bear as he leaned back on his throne. Cybernetics that were temporarily connecting him to the ship physically glittered as he slowly turned to the leader, Brokad.

The Batarian's eyes narrowed as he looked down at the pilot, then at the screens showing read-outs for the ship's systems and sensors. "What's so funny, two-eyes?"

He gestured at the stations in front of him with a grin. "Oh, nothing much to worry about. It's just that it looks like the Navy's here."

There was silence, before a rifle smacked into the pilot's face. "What did you do!" Brokad growled.

"Why do you presume that I had to do anything? The Imperium has safeguards in place... especially on a ship full of Xenos," the human pointed out, raising an eyebrow. "So, what are you going to do now?"

"_You_ are going to set us on course to the nearest Mass Relay, so we can get the hell out of here."

"Well, Brokad," stammered the Batarian sitting to their immediate side. He was looking into a multitude of terminals displaying what the sensors saw around the ship. "The human reinforcements are coming in from the Mass Relay. So we need another way out."

The leader stepped back, rubbing a forearm over his face. "What does it entail?"

"It looks like a Battleship." The pilot leaned forward to look at his own screens as the Batarian looming over him thought over the situation.

"So in that case, it must be very slow. Hence... we can get behind the planet, and wait until it tries to come around to make a run for it."

Grakesh, turning back to the hostages lest they become rowdy, voiced his doubts. "But what if they have ships beyond the relay?"

"Then we make a jump to get out of there; anything bigger than us is not fast enough to catch up, and anything smaller we can take care of," Brokad answered, leaning onto the pilot's throne. The human glared up at him distastefully, before turning back to his sensors.

"They don't have to catch up... what if they shoot us down?"

The small Batarian beside Brokad shook his head. "No, they wouldn't. There's too much stuff in here for them to just try that, and anything with the right payload to disable us wouldn't get through the ships."

"Shields can be depleted," Grakesh offered.

"Eventually. We can gamble on this," Brokad decided.

"How so?" The pilot raised an eyebrow, grin splitting his face. "Why even gamble if you'll lose even if you succeed?" He was smacked in the face with the pirate's rifle, but that didn't change his expression.

"I don't think they'll shoot enough to take down the shields, because we can turn them off. The payload required to get through them is likely enough to blow the ship up... or at least seriously damage it and its cargo."

Merk looked up from his sitting position on a far wall. As there was nothing for him to do, he'd taken to resting several minutes before. "Why the hell would we shut off the shields?"

"They don't know who we are, nor what our motivations are. As far as they know we could just be seeking to crash the ship into the planet, or want to get blown up. We might just be terrorists in their eyes... so they'll be careful."

Merk scratched the top of his head. "What if they board us? Can they do that?"

The short techy Batarian spoke up. "They can't, unless they're gonna do it with a Cruiser or something. The Battleship is too slow, unless we fly right at it, and their Frigates and Fighters aren't enough to get past the ship's defenses."

Brokad was quiet for a moment, before turning to the pilot. "But there's more to this, isn't there? What the hell's so funny, human?"

"You stupid Xenos don't know what you're messing with," he chuckled darkly. "That's not a Battleship. That's an Astartes Battle Barge. They will board this ship. Then they will kill every one of you, and go on to burn every one of your worlds."

"Astartes... the male soldiers?" Brokad scoffed.

"You don't even know what you're talking about. It's almost sad, how little you know of your betters." The pilot shook his head with a grin.

"Hey, boss..." Merk started as his group's leader smashed his weapon into the back of the human's head. "I don't know..."

Grakesh shook his head with a groan. "Don't pussy out. We've gone so far, already, and now you want to give up?"

The pirate stood up, snarling. "Pussy out? Don't give me that shit, you damn brute. I've got a family. If what he's saying is true, then there's a lot more to this than just our lives."

The other Batarian turned to him completely, hefting his weapon dangerously. "So that's all it takes? Some useless human's empty threats, and now you want to give up? All the years of planning, all that's taken for us to get here? You're pathetic."

Merk growled. "Big words for an animal; you're just doing this for the violence, so don't tell me that I'm pathetic for being reluctant to lose my family. I'm doing it for them."

Brokad broke in. "Both of you, shut up!" He barked. "Merk, don't you dare go weak now. You should have considered the risks before we got to this point."

"A Battleship, boss! They could take out a continent by crashing that ship into it."

The pilot peered back at the bantering Batarians for a moment, before turning to the controls. The slight movements weren't noticeable by the three pirates, but the hostages along the walls perked up as they saw him move.

"What's he doing?"

"There's a ship coming... he's probably going towards it."

"Thank the Emperor... finally, all this is going to end."

The whispers went unheard by the arguing Batarians, but the one sitting near the pilot idly looked to the side, and saw him furiously typing away.

"B-boss! He's doing something!" The pirate stood up, bringing a pistol up and shooting. The first shot got the human on the thigh, eliciting a grunt of pain.

The sound of a mass of tungsten breaking the sound barrier caught the attention of the other Batarians if the scream hadn't. In a moment, three weapons were pointed at the pilot and unloading.

In a few seconds, Brokad stopped, and slapped his accomplices' weapons down. They were left staring at a mangled corpse laid out over the controls.

"Shit... without him there's no way to pilot this ship..." the techy pirate mumbled, face taking on an alarmed expression.

The leader, trying to keep his cool, punched his subordinates and pointed at the hostages. "Get back to work! Mangruk, check on the systems. What the hell was he doing?"

The Batarian followed his boss' orders without hesitation, taking a seat on his station once more. He typed into his omni-tool, and rapidly looked between it and the terminals in front of him.

"He was... putting in some commands for moving the ship. He managed to switch the power to the engines to full thrust, but he didn't have time to change the vectors to turn towards, I'd reckon, the Battleship."

"So now we're flying off into space at full speed?"

Mangruk peered closely at the monitors. "Okay, let me see. This... we're headed for... the planet?"

A single moment of horrified silence, before Brokad spoke. "Why the hell are we headed there, if he didn't have time to fully change the vectors?"

"It has to do with the way these ships are piloted. I don't really understand why they made it this way, but there's nothing I can do. Even a glancing hit on the planet will evaporate us and everything around the crash site, and we're headed straight towards it. We need to leave; if this ship were smaller we'd be able to survive a landing, but that's not the case."

"Shit... alright, we have to go, then. Grakesh! Kill the hostages to make sure we're not followed; we're getting to an escape pod. Merk! Grab the Captain and get the location of the escape pods out of him!"

-I-

"Come on... wake up!" Bloodshot eyes opened abruptly, and a fist swung out erratically. The one to disturb the attacker flinched, moving away from the reaching hand, and called out once more. "John, calm down!"

John stood quickly, eyes roving over his surroundings but not seeing much of anything. Around him stood a handful of humans, rapidly backing away from him. "John, calm down! You're among friends," another one attempted.

The man simply growled gutturally. "Damn it, sir, get a hold of yourself! We're all humans here!"

This seemed to make something click in his mind. John blinked slowly, two times, before glaring around once more. "Where the hell am I?"

"We're in the catacombs. The pirates threw us down in the old cells when they decided keeping us pacified was too much work," the man who had awakened him supplied. John straightened, staring at him.

"Chief Engineer..." His eyes narrowed. "Too much work? Those damn Xenos were killing people up there, why would they want to bring you down here?" As a Commissar, John was always wary of his own men rebelling. Not seeing sense in his explanation, he took a stance, resting his weight on his right foot as he drew it back.

The older-looking human saw that, and panicked. "Hey, hey, chill out!" He raised his hands in horror at the prospect of being attacked by the man while he was in full control of his faculties.

Another human broke in. "I know it might not seem to make sense, but I think they just want some hostages. Some of us are quite widely-known... Chief Engineer Terlin, Lieutenant Froman... youself, Commissar."

Terlin nodded frantically, adding, "There's no knowing when they'll place the crew they captured wherever and come back to us... they'll probably want to torture us for information on the Imperium. We can't fight; we need to leave!"

John growled. "Let them come; those bastards still have my wife, and my daughter..." He closed his eyes tightly as he paused, before glaring at the Engineer again. "I'll kill them!"

A short, blond man spoke up, pushing himself off of a wall. "Don't be stupid, Commissar! Your family may be lost already. I was brought in at the same time as you, and they sure didn't seem very happy with your wife when she broke formation; I very much doubt there'll be a happy ending for her... but there might be one, for us!" He walked up to the much taller man, frowning. "You're the only one with extensive combat experience among us. We need you to get out of here."

"Us? When did this become about 'us'?" John glared down his long nose at the short blond. "Lieutenant, I don't think you want to get in between me and my wife."

"Your dead wife, John! Either way, Catherine will die. If you go out for her, they'll kill her, same as Ana!"

With a thud, Lieutenant Froman crashed into a group of men standing by the far wall. He coughed wetly as he was helped up, clutching his chest. "Face facts, you old idiot... I know what you did in Ultima Segmentum. Most brutal commissar they'd seen there in centuries, and now this? Attacking fellow humans because you don't want to see the truth." The shorter human glared up at the grizzled soldier, his ire magnified by those all around him.

John slowly let his left fist lower, glaring down at the ground. "Fine. I will get you out... but only to get you to your damn escape shuttle. Then I'm going back to kill all these bastards, before they're all killed by our reinforcements."

"What's to say we have reinforcements, John?" The Chief Engineer's voice was low, this time.

He didn't respond, only staring at the older-looking man.

There was silence among the group, as John turned to the gated area between them and escape. "This is all we need to get past... but it's probably made of material too strong to break."

Froman limped towards the cell's exit, rummaging through his slacks' pockets as he peered down at the lock. "We don't need to break anything... I have a way out."

"What the hell do you need me for, then?"

"Protection. All the other soldiers are dead, John. You're the only one that can beat those brutes in a straight fight... and more than a few of them at the same time, too." He smirked at him from the side, pulling a key from his pants.

"You have a key?" Terlin blinked in befuddlement, breaking into the conversation. "They didn't search you?"

"No... after the ruckus he caused, they just threw us both away." He pushed the gate open, and gave the Commissar an appraising look. "I even managed to sneak away a weapon of sorts..." He reached into the back of his pants, and pulled out a large dagger. "Not quite a chainsword, but it trust it'll do?"

John grabbed it out of his hands quickly, stepping out of the cell without a word. "It will. Come, I want to get you to the pod, and then be on my way."

Terlin was the first one out, rushing past Froman as he spoke. "John, this way. And how's the arm?"

The Commissar followed the directions, moving down the cavernous catacomb hall in a rush. The men behind him had to almost jog to keep up, but did not complain. "I don't know what you mean, Chief Engineer."

"Your right arm." John recoiled, realizing what the older man meant. He subconsciously stored his blade and reached for his shoulder with his left hand, looking down. Instead of the mass of sinew and crushed bone barely held together by the cloth from his coat, all he could see at the moment was cloth. "We couldn't salvage it, so we took some clothes and did the best we could to make it hold together. You can't move it, I don't think, but you also can't feel it. Doctor Jonage managed to disable the nerves leading there, so it shouldn't be too much of a setback. Your torso is riddled with wounds, but it shouldn't slow you down any more."

The Commissar absently nodded, leading the group through hall after hall with the Chief Engineer's directions. They never left the catacombs, knowing that was where the main force of Pirates was prowling, even if John kept trying to veer towards the brighter, main hallways of the ship.

They were silent, and so was the ship; there were no humans nor Batarians, alive or not, in their path, as they moved towards the escape pod... until they got there.

A single Batarian crewmember, wearing worker's slacks and nursing a large black bruise covering most of the side of his face, stood by the exit to their escape. Although also having four eyes, he did not seem to be at all hostile, just a bit lost.

John did not care, however. Non-human meant hostile in his books, given the situation, especially if it also meant Batarian, so he lunged forwards. His footfalls were loud as he sprinted towards his target, but the alien did not seem to notice, until one of the humans called out.

"Dammit, John, that's not a pirate!" The cry went unheeded by the soldier, even if the alien heard it loud and clear. He looked towards the sound, noticing the sizeable group of humans, including the one rapidly nearing him. All four eyes widened, and it recoiled, a scream beginning to form. However, begin was all it was allowed to do, before a blade stabbed into the cartilage in the middle of its eyes. It was torn out, then back in at the top of its head.

The old Commissar continued to stab his target, and had managed to do so half a dozen times before it hit the ground. John barely held his contempt and desire to follow it down in check as the Batarian crashed into a puddle of its own green blood.

Froman ran up to him, looking down at the alien in horror. "Dammit, John... that guy wasn't hostile!"

"No one will wonder about a dead Xeno."

The Lieutenant eyed him uncertainly, before turning back to the humans. "Well, either way. Let's go in the pod, everyone. Chief Engineer... you go first, and get it ready."

"Yes, sir." A semblance of order was regained as the Lieutenant brought back the order of command to the humans, and the dead Batarian at their feet was quickly forgotten as they began to file into the large door in the wall.

Froman was the last, peering into the expansive room lit up in red, much like the rest of the catacombs. It reached perhaps a hundred meters back, and was nearly a dozen wide. There was more than enough space for a thousand people in there... but he knew nowhere near that many were going to join them. They'd be left behind, until reinforcements arrived.

He looked back at the old Commissar from the entrance, watching him for a moment before speaking. "You don't want to come inside."

"No."

"I meant what I said; Catherine is likely not alive anymore. There is no point in staying; the Imperium needs men like you alive. If the Batarians come across you again... you're not coming out of that."

John looked down, hefting the dagger with his left hand. "I know. I don't care. I will have my revenge."

"Have it later, then! There will be repercussions... these aren't just pirates. What some of them have said... I have no doubt they're in their government's employ. Many of these seem to be special forces. Soldiers. More privateers than mere pirates. Come along... and you'll be able to watch their worlds burn. There is no sense in wasting another life here."

The soldier turned around abruptly, glaring at the shorter man. "Soldiers? You're saying... these aren't criminals. These damn Xenos... all of them... are attacking the Imperium, as if there were no repercussions? As if we'd just lay down and give in to their demands?"

Froman made to respond, but was interrupted by voices from a nearby hall.

"I think there are others nearby. Perhaps it is Jeerak's group?"

"Doubtful. They'd be much louder... there are many of them, after all."

"Well, boss, what do you think we should do?"

"Grakesh, you're sure they aren't Jeerak's?"

"Can't be sure, boss."

"Fine... but it's them. No one else could've made it down here. Hey, Jeerak!" The voice bellowed. "As you might be aware, you're sitting near an escape pod! Or inside it! Open up, and we'll get the hell out of here... this ship's going to crash!"

John and Froman were silent for a moment, before the Lieutenant's face contorted into a horrified visage. "Crash?"

"These fuckers..." The Commissar seemed a moment away from apoplectic rage. "They plan to destroy one of the Emperor's farmworlds!" He turned towards the hall, but the smaller man pulled him back.

"No! Come inside, we need you!"

"I will avenge this planet!" John roared, pulling away. He stepped out from the doorway, and raised his arm. "Xenos! I-"

A muffled explosion, that of something breaking the sound barrier, sounded a moment before John flew back into the pod, collapsing on top of Froman.

"Emperor's pants!" The Lieutenant cried in surprise, pushing the soldier off of him. "Terlin!"

"Got it!" The door slid shut, before the sounds of mass effect-driven projectiles hitting it rang through the pod. A moment later, they were joined by that of engines, and suddenly, there was no noise, only the rumbling of the rockets propelling them through space.

"We're out?" A tall, dark-skinned man questioned, looking around the windowless pod.

"No sound means we're in space... thank the Emperor."

"So... what do we do now?"

The humans, as one, looked at the Lieutenant, who himself was looking down at the groaning Commissar on the floor.

"Well, we need to see if his wounds are particularly bad. Then... we wait for pick-up."

-I-

The pick-up came eventually, but rather abruptly. All they knew was that the pod shook, and suddenly they could hear things from outside again. Something crashed against the door, and a voice rang through the walls.

"HUMANS OR ENEMIES?"

There was no time to respond before the door, and some of the fuselage around it caved in. From the new hole in the pod strode an enormous armored figure.

"Emperor's name... an Astartes!" The humans stood up to greet the Imperium's protectors, who waved them off.

"SO YOU'RE HUMANS. GOOD. THIS IS THE ONLY ESCAPE POD FROM THE SUPERFREIGHTER, SERGEANT." The Space Marine turned towards the hole, gesturing for the men gathered in there to leave.

"THE ONLY SURVIVORS FROM THIS ATTACK ON OUR BEAUTIFUL IMPERIUM... FIFTEEN MEN. WHO WERE THE CULPRITS?" The Sergeant stood in the brightly-lit hangar, almost as tall as the escape pod in his gleaming yellow armor.

"Astartes, sir... they were Batarians," Lieutenant Froman supplied. There was silence from the enormous superhuman for a moment, before a horrible sound tore through the area. The humans from the pod clutched at their ears in pain, as the Space Marine made his rage known to the universe.

"FUCKING XENOS, THEY DEFILE OUR BEAUTIFUL FARMWORLD! BROTHERS, TAKE THESE CITIZENS TO REST; I WILL BE CONTACTING HOLY TERRA. THEY DARE... MILLIONS DEAD! WE WILL HAVE OUR REVENGE!" Pauldrons heaving in passionate rage, the Space Marine turned to leave the expansive, empty hangar, before a (comparatively) small voice from the pod stopped him in its tracks.

The hate in it was enough to stop even the Emperor's warrior, who turned as a man stepped out from behind the first Astartes to speak to the survivors.

"Let me have my revenge as well, Astartes."

"WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?"

"I am John. Commissar John Fuklaw."

The Sergeant stepped back after getting a glimpse of the man's face, contorted with rage. "VERY WELL, WE WILL ALLOW YOU TO DO SO. IT SEEMS YOU HAVE THE ZEAL, AT THE VERY LEAST. THE ANGRY MARINES WILL ALLOW YOU TO SERVE ALONGSIDE THEM, COMMISSAR FUKLAW."


End file.
